


Every Path

by Wwwhat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Childbirth, Discussion of Abortion, Discussion of Adoption, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Pregnant Sex, Really quite a lot of angst, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 80,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wwwhat/pseuds/Wwwhat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have been spending John's heats together, and not talking about their feelings. They're going to have to find a way to talk to each other when John finds out that he's pregnant. Sherlock doesn't want a baby, and John just wants Sherlock. Can they find a way to work out what they want and not push each other away at the same time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the back of what we've done there is that knowledge of you

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Firstly trigger warning - this story contains an unplanned pregnancy, discussion of this, discussion of abortion, and other discussion surrounding a pregnancy that both parties aren't totally on board with. If that seems like something that you wouldn't be ok with reading then this story might not be for you. Also, importantly, I'm not casting judgement on abortions in any way. I've never been in that situation and it's not my place to judge anyone. Hopefully that's everything covered.
> 
> There'll be more tags added as the story goes on, I don't want to put all the tags up right away and spoil future chapters. Also, the rating is set to Mature, but I think it'll be be a few chapters before it gets to anything really approaching that rating. I'm not sure how quickly I'll be adding new chapters, I'm hopeful that it'll be fairly frequent and I promise not to leave it unfinished.
> 
> Finally, this is un-betad so any errors are all my own work. This is a totally different take on John and Sherlock to my previous story. I don't own any of the Sherlock characters, they all belong to their original creators. Constructive criticism and comments are super welcome.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------

_ This is the song for Baby Birch _   
_ I will never know you _   
_ And at the back of what we've done _   
_ There is that knowledge of you _

 

_ Baby Birch - Joanna Newsom _

 

\----------

John closed his eyes as he held the plastic stick. 3 minutes it said. He started counting slowly. He’d got to 324 before he reminded himself that he had to open his eyes sometime. He took a deep breath and forced his eyes open and down to the stick in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mumbled dropping his head back against the wall he was sitting against. His eyes slammed shut, not wanting to see the plastic stick any more.

__

_ Fuck.  _

 

. . . . .

 

When Sherlock got home John was sitting at the kitchen table, pale and distracted. John looked up, knowing it was pointless trying to hide anything from the detective. He'd briefly considered not telling Sherlock right away, but he knew there was no way to hide things from him. Now that John knew Sherlock would know something was going on.

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked, eyebrows drawn together, standing over John.

John cleared his throat. “Sit down Sherlock.”

Through the fog of everything else in his head John registered surprise that Sherlock did as asked without questioning it.

“John?”

John took a steadying breath before meeting Sherlock’s eyes. His hands were clasped together on the table; one of Sherlock’s moved to cover them.

John took another deep breath, feeling like he was about to jump off a cliff. “I’m pregnant.”

If it had been any other situation John might have been amused by the way Sherlock’s expression changed from concern to blank to confused so quickly.

“What? I don’t- _What?_ ” He pulled his hands away from John’s, pushing his chair away from the table. “Are you sure?”

John nodded, watching Sherlock’s expressions change. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat again. “I took a test, earlier.”

“It could be wrong-”

“I took two, Sherlock-”

“They could both-”

“They’re not wrong, Sherlock! I’m pregnant,” John said sharply, meeting Sherlock’s eyes again.

Sherlock stood up and began pacing the kitchen, one hand running through his hair. “How...How did this happen? We were careful, weren't we?” His head snapped around to look at John, who rolled his eyes.

“Yes we were careful Sherlock, but nothing’s 100%. Do you really think I’d do this on purpose?” John watched Sherlock continue pacing. Something in John’s tone made Sherlock stop and sit back in his chair, his hands covering John’s where they were still clasped on the table.

“No. No, I don’t think that.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

John watched him, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. He hated feeling so unsure around Sherlock, it had been a long time since he’d doubted himself so much, but then nothing had been like this before. 

Eventually Sherlock let out a long breath and sat forward. “I don’t want children, John.” He watched John carefully as he said it.

“I know,” John nodded, looking down at the table.

“That hasn’t changed.”

John was studiously avoiding Sherlock’s eyes. “I know,” he swallowed and nodded.

“John...” Sherlock ducked his head trying to catch John’s eye. “John, what do you-”

“It’s fine Sherlock,” John said pulling his hands away from Sherlock’s, pushing his chair back. “I’ll make an appointment at the reproductive health clinic,” he said as he walked through to the living room.

His heart was pounding and his head was swimming, he felt like everything had shifted slightly in the space of just a few hours. He gripped the back of his arm chair, holding himself steady. None of this should have been a surprise to him. He and Sherlock weren't even bonded for fuck’s sake. Sherlock had been very clear about what he could offer before they’d spent their first heat together. Sherlock couldn't promise him anything. He knew he didn't want John to spend his heats with anyone else, and he didn't want to be with anyone else either, but Sherlock refused to call them anything but flatmates, friends, never anything more. The work was his priority, his first love. _‘Selfish prick’_ , John thought as he steadied his breathing. He tensed as Sherlock stopped just behind him.

“John, we can- we can talk about this if you want-”

“What’s the point?” John turned to face him, his hands out, palms up in front of him. “I’m pregnant, you don’t want children, I’m not going to force you into a situation you don’t want to be in. What is there to discuss?” He shrugged, looking at Sherlock again.

“What do _you_ want?”

John sighed and moved to drop into his chair. He held his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. “I want _us_ , Sherlock. You and our life here is what I want.” Even as he said the words John felt his stomach clench. He felt more selfish than he ever had before. He wanted Sherlock more than anything else and Sherlock didn’t want this baby, so John couldn’t have it. It really was that simple John thought. He felt Sherlock’s hand stroking over the back of his neck, resting there, his thumb stroking over the short hair at the base of John’s neck.

“I want that too John. You and me and the work,” Sherlock murmured.

John nodded biting his lip and swallowing around the sudden and enormous lump in his throat. “I’ll make the appointment tomorrow.” He stood up, shrugging Sherlock’s hand off his neck. “I think I need some sleep.” He moved towards the stairs to his room, a room that he rarely slept in these days.

As he pulled the quilt over himself in the dark room he finally let himself wonder what would have happened if things had been different. What if Sherlock hadn't said he still didn't want children? What if he’d been happy, excited, thrilled even? What if he’d told John he was over the moon about it? What if he’d kissed John, told him he was excited about them having a baby?

John turned and buried his face in his pillow. He couldn't think of it like that, it wasn't a baby, not yet; it was a collection of cells, an embryo still. He was a doctor, he knew this. But it seemed like as soon as he’d let go of his control, as soon as he’d let himself consider ‘what if’ he couldn't stop thinking about them. Happy scenes of imagined family bliss tormented him. With picture perfect images of he and Sherlock and a chubby baby with black curls and bright eyes dancing behind his closed eyelids John sobbed into his pillow until his eyes burned.

\----------

As John sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair, his leg bobbing up and down, he almost wished he hadn't told Sherlock not to come with him. He hadn't even told Sherlock when his appointment was, but the insufferable man had deduced it as soon as he’d seen John. Sherlock had said he’d go with him but John had told him not to. He wasn't sure now why he’d wanted to be alone for this. The clinic was so sterile and depressing, though how could it be anything else?

He looked around and wondered what Sherlock would see here. An omega in a business suit; not ready to swap career for baby. A young omega with her parents; unexpected heat John would guess, maybe her first or second one. A couple who were both on the edge of tears; medical problems John assumed. He gave up his observations then, too depressing by far. The crying couple made him feel awful. If his deduction was right, they were here presumably because their baby had too many health problems to survive and John was here because he wanted his - his what? His boyfriend? His flatmate? His friend? - he wanted _him_ more than he wanted the baby. John’s leg started bobbing again. ‘ _Selfish,_ ’ he thought, closing his eyes and wondering if he’d ever be able to think of himself as anything else again.

“Dr Watson?” A young woman in brightly coloured scrubs called his name. He stood, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, his stomach tying itself into more knots. He made his way on wobbly legs to the corridor where the nurse was waiting for him. He barely heard her over the sound of his heart in his ears, but made his way into the room she’d directed him to.

“If you could hop up on the examination table the doctor will be in in just a moment to see you,” she smiled kindly and gently shut the door behind her.

 

. . .  . .

Sherlock hadn't been able to stay in the flat once John had left that morning. He’d considered going after him, forcing John to let him go to the appointment with him, but he was already feeling alienated from John without making the man deal with his presence when it wasn't wanted. He’d gone to Lestrade and pestered him until he’d been thrown out of Scotland Yard. Molly hadn't been at work so there was nothing he could get into to occupy his mind in the morgue. Eventually he settled for roaming around London, re-familiarising himself with the city he loved. When he found himself outside Fortnum and Mason he ventured in to buy some tea that he knew John was especially fond of, and some biscuits he thought he’d like.

He tried to stop his mind from wandering to where John was and what would be happening to him at that moment. He tried not to think about John’s harsh tone that morning, and he tried even harder not to think about what this might do to them. He couldn't help but feel selfish. He was getting what he wanted - their lives would stay the same as always, he and John chasing across London searching for criminals, solving puzzles. They couldn't do any of that with a child. John’s attention would no longer be on Sherlock, it would be on the baby. They wouldn't be able to take risks like they did now, wouldn't be able to do as they pleased. Their lives would change and they would change and Sherlock didn't want any of that.

As he let himself back into the flat hours after he’d left he could hear the TV playing quietly in the living room. From the top of the stairs he could see John asleep on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. His heart clenched as he took in just how strained John looked, even asleep he looked exhausted, his eyes red and puffy, indicating that he’d been crying. Sherlock frowned and stroked his hand over John’s hair. He hated being the cause of John’s unhappiness.

The feeling of a hand in his hair woke John from his restless sleep. He blinked up at Sherlock, the detective dropping to crouch next to the sofa.

“How are you feeling?” Sherlock asked softly, his hand still in John’s hair.

John nodded slightly, pressing softly against Sherlock’s hand, looking at the detective. “I couldn’t do it,” he whispered voice croaky from sleep and tears.

Sherlock froze.


	2. Rushing slow intake of dark, dark water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have a tough time making decisions about the future and struggle between ignoring the changes that are happening and having to face how a pregnancy changes the dynamic of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such a great response to the first chapter, it was so nice! This chapter's taken me a little longer than I was hoping it would, partly because of RL being busy, but I've just struggled a bit with this one, and I'm still not 100% certain about it but I can't keep looking at it and driving myself mad, so here it is. 
> 
> Please note the change of rating. Also, this is my first time writing smut soooo hopefully it's not dreadful!
> 
> Again, I don't own anyone or anything, everyone belongs to their creators.
> 
> This is un-betad so all mistakes are my own. Comments and constructive feedback very gratefully received!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> __________________

_Do you remember staring up at the stars_   
_So far away in their bulletproof cars_   
_We heard the rushing, slow intake_   
_Of the dark, dark water_   
_And the engine breaks_

 

_Baby Birch - Joanna Newsom_

 

\----------

 

Sherlock dropped back to sit on his heels. John watched him for a moment before pushing himself up into a sitting position.

 

"What happened?" Sherlock asked quietly.

 

John pulled the blanket around his shoulders, fidgeting in his nervousness. "I saw it. They- they had to do a scan to see how far along I am so they'd know which procedure was most appropriate..." His eyes flicked briefly up to Sherlock's. "I told myself not to look, but I couldn't not and I saw it, and it was..." He sighed and shook his head. "It was textbook Sherlock, looks exactly like in the medical books. I saw its heart, just this little white dot twitching away on the screen and I just couldn't do it." He couldn't face looking at Sherlock.

 

"John,” Sherlock said slowly. “This doesn't- it doesn't change how I feel about having children. I...I still don't…”

 

"I know that," John sighed leaning against the back of the sofa a hand over his eyes. "I know that, and I'm not asking you to change your mind Sherlock, I just can't go through with an abortion."

 

The silence between them seemed to stretch on for an age. Sherlock didn't know what to say, he felt entirely unprepared for any of this. They'd been careful for fuck's sake, they should never have been in this situation at all.

 

He wasn’t used to the facts being so at odds with each other. He didn’t want to lose John, couldn’t lose the one person who’d been able to get through all of his defences and set up camp firmly in his heart, but he didn’t want to have this child either. He couldn't stand the thought of being tied down, and restricted and being responsible and having to answer to someone. Just the thought of it made him feel suffocated. He needed John but this was too big for him to change his mind on. This was life changing and he didn't want his life to change.

 

"What...What do we do now?" He asked John.

 

John sat forward knowing how much Sherlock would hate to not have the answers to these questions. "When I told the doctor I couldn't go ahead with it we had a chat and there's really only two options, either keeping the baby, which isn't really an option for us, is it?" He watched as Sherlock shook his head. "So," John continued ignoring the clench in his chest. "So, we're left with option three-" he handed a leaflet over to Sherlock.

 

"Adoption? John...I...Do you think you could do it?" He watched John's face as the omega considered Sherlock's questions. Sherlock hated that they were in this position and hated even more that there was nothing he could do to resolve it.

 

"Yeah, I think...I think it might be the only option I can live with."

 

Sherlock nodded slowly, still not sure what to say.

 

"I know it's a lot to take in and I know it'll be a lot to deal with..." John trailed off not sure how to continue.

 

Sherlock flicked through the papers. "Have you thought about this John? Everyone we know will know, they'll see you getting more and more pregnant and what will we tell them when there's no baby at the end of it?"

 

"Since when were you bothered about what people will think?" John mumbled, his fingers worrying the edge of the blanket.

 

"I'm not, but do you really think  _you'll_ be ok with everyone seeing you carry a baby for 9 months and then having to explain to them all where the baby is when they ask?" Sherlock leaned forward, his hand resting on the side of John's neck, his thumb softly stroking his jaw. "I don't want this to be any harder than it has to be for you."

 

John closed his eyes and leant into Sherlock's touch. "It'll be hard for you too. Even if we say nothing people will assume that it's your baby, they'll ask you about it too. And I won't be very useful while I'm pregnant; I'll be slow and tired and won't be able to run around after you. I'll need to be off work near the end and after...after. I'll be moody and enormous and we'll have to see social workers and fill in tons of paperwork, but I still think that'll all be less hard than what I couldn't do today."

 

Sherlock watched John, saw how hard it was for him to articulate what he was thinking. He wished that he could get inside John's brain and see things how John did, wished he could understand how John was feeling about all of this.

 

John took Sherlock's silence as the hesitance that was really only partly to blame for it. "I know it's a lot to think about, and I'm not going to rush you to talk about all of this, but...I really think this is what I need to do, and if all the shit that'll go along with it, the questions and the social workers, if that's too much I can leave until after it's born, I can handle all of the arrangements and not involve you in them."

 

"What? Where would you go?" Sherlock’s demanded. John could be spectacularly idiotic sometimes Sherlock thought.

 

"I'm not sure, I could maybe stay with Harry for a bit..."

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous John, I might not want this baby but I had a part in making it, I'm not going to send you away like some shamed omega in a Victorian novel." He sighed as he leaned forward to press a kiss to John’s forehead. “Idiot.”

 

John leaned against Sherlock, the gentle kiss feeling like a lifeline between them, he snaked his arms out of the blanket and wrapped them around Sherlock's neck, pressing his face against the soft skin there. "You might change your mind about it all in the next 31 weeks," he mumbled, breathing in Sherlock's scent.

 

Sherlock wound his arms around John, holding him close, feeling the distance of the last few days start to fade a little. "You're 9 weeks already?"

 

John nodded, still pressed against the alpha. "Yeah, must have happened right at the start of my heat. Surprised I've not been feeling nauseous for longer than the last couple of weeks."

 

After a few minutes John pulled back a little. "Look, we don't have to decide anything right away. Read the leaflets and let me know what you think ok? I was serious that I could go away if it'd be too hard for you."

 

"I don't want that, I want you here with me, where you should be. We'll be ok."

 

"Ok," John nodded. "Ok." As Sherlock pulled John into his arms again John really hoped that he was right.

 

_\----------_

**9 weeks**

****

A few days later Sherlock woke up to an empty bed and the sound of someone being fairly spectacularly ill.

 

He stood in the doorway of the bathroom feeling helpless as John threw up. For a second he wished their positions were reversed. John would know what to do if Sherlock was throwing up. Remembering the time when he'd had food poisoning and John had taken care of him he cleared his throat. "I'll get you some water."

 

By the time he came back John was sitting back on his heels, pale and tired. Sherlock dropped down to crouch next to John, handing over the water before resting a hand against John’s back, feeling how hot he was.

 

“Are you ok? Do you need a doctor or anything?”

 

John shook his head, rinsing his mouth out with the water. “No, thanks though, but no, I’ll be fine, it’s just morning sickness.”

 

Sherlock stroked John's back softly. "Can I get you anything?"

 

John shook his head leaning into the touch of Sherlock's hand. "No," he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Feels more real now doesn't it?"

 

Sherlock nodded. "I suppose it’s just the first of many external symptoms?"

 

"Yeah," John said pushing himself up from his position on the floor by the loo. Sherlock silently followed him into the kitchen where John flipped on the kettle before groaning and switching it off again.

 

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked from where he'd leant awkwardly against the kitchen counter.

 

"Caffeine," John grumbled. "I'm supposed to avoid it apparently, so no tea," he said facing Sherlock his expression miserable. "This is just the start of it Sherlock. There's a whole list of things that I can't eat or drink or do and I'm sure the vomiting is going to go on for a bit..." He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

 

"What's your point, John?"

 

"If it's too much, tell me now and I'll leave," John seemed so serious but all Sherlock could see was a pale, tired version of the man he knew.

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, let’s not have this conversation again, you know how dull I find repetition. If this is what you want, if you can handle all of that and it's what you'd prefer then I can handle it too."

 

John nodded. "It's still what I'd prefer."

 

"Well then there's nothing else to discuss," Sherlock shrugged.

 

. . . . .

 

John had gone back to bed after forcing himself to eat a slice of toast and send up a wish that the feeling wouldn’t go on all day. He'd seen patients at the surgery who had it through their whole pregnancy and he really hoped he wasn't going to suffer that fate. Something he'd read said that it could be helpful to think of morning sickness as a reassurance, a sign that the pregnancy hormones were increasing. John did  _not_  feel reassured, he felt miserable.

 

When he woke up a few hours later it was to Sherlock sitting on the side of their bed holding what smelled like a steaming hot cup of tea.

 

"Sherlock did you not hear me earlier? Just because we’re not keeping the baby doesn't mean I'm not going to look after it as well as poss-" John said, frowning as he sat up.

 

"It's caffeine free," Sherlock interrupted, handing the mug to John. "I'm sure it's nothing like real tea but it might be acceptable."

 

John stared at Sherlock for a moment before shifting his gaze to the mug in his hand. "What? Where did you-?"

 

"A shop, obviously, now I need you to look at -"

 

"You went to a shop, voluntarily, to buy decaf tea?" John interrupted, sure his sleep and hormone addled brain was confusing him.

 

"John, stop asking questions with obvious answers. Now I need you to look at the injuries in this body and give me your medical opinion." With that he thrust a sheaf of photos into John's hand

 

John stared at Sherlock for a second. _Well,_ he thought _. That’s slightly less miserable._

__

_\----------_

__

**10 weeks**

****

John was in their bed when Sherlock got home. The detective stopped in the doorway, a sealed plastic bag in his hand. “John, I need your medical advice.”

 

John didn’t move, his back to Sherlock, the duvet up to his ears.

 

“John...I know you’re not asleep. I’ve got part of a liver from Molly.” He shifted the bag slightly, a wet noise filling the room.

 

When John still didn’t move Sherlock edged slightly closer. “Are you ill?”

 

A sigh came from the duvet. “No.”

 

“What’s wrong then? I want you to look at this liver.”

 

“Stuff your liver, Sherlock!” The shout was slightly muffled by the duvet but Sherlock could tell it was an unhappy one.

 

“John...are you still thinking about it?”

 

The lump under the duvet became dangerously still.

 

John's head appeared from under the duvet. "You are unbelievable,” the look he shot Sherlock was murderous. He sat up, pushing the covers off him. “Yes Sherlock, yes I’m still thinking about  _it_.” He pulled his jeans on as he got out of the bed, a jumper followed. “And just so you know, I’ll probably be thinking about  _it_  for the next 7 months.” He barged past Sherlock, grabbing his coat and yanking that on in the same rough way as the rest of his clothes. “In fact, I’ll probably be thinking about  _it_  forever, so you might as well get used to it you inconsiderate prick.”

 

With that he stormed down the stairs and out onto Baker St, leaving Sherlock still holding his bag full of liver.

 

The detective’s shoulders slumped.  _Bit not good_ , he thought.

 

Sherlock had put the liver in the fridge, not in the mood for his experiment after John had stormed out. He’d paced the flat for a while before ending up prone on the sofa, his thoughts spinning through his head. Hours later he heard the door open and turned to see John slowly moving through the living room. The older man sat on the coffee table facing Sherlock.

 

“Before you say anything, I need to apologise. I’m sorry for going off at you like that. I don’t want to blame hormones, but I’m not really feeling like myself at the moment. But,” he carried on quickly before Sherlock could respond. “I need you to understand just how massive this is. It’s not just a decision made and then we can move on until I give birth. This is going to affect us, for the next 7 months, and then after that. This will always be with us, Sherlock, and I need you to try and understand that."

 

Sherlock nodded, still unsure of what to say. “I’ll try, John.”

 

“That’s all I can ask,” John answered gently.

 

_**\---------** _

__

**12 weeks**

For a little bit life almost returned to normal. There were cases, John did some shifts at the surgery, and apart from most mornings starting with John vomiting and the introduction of 'nothing like real tea but better than no tea' decaf it was easy to forget that John was pregnant at all. Sherlock liked it like that, things were almost how they should be and everything else he could ignore fairly easily.

 

Every now and then though there was no escaping their situation. One morning Sherlock was in his pyjamas flipping through the newspaper when John came in fully dressed.

 

"Have you seen my keys?" He asked moving sofa cushions, piles of paper, a jumper out of the way.

 

"What?" Sherlock asked getting up and watching John root around on the coffee table.

 

"Keys, Sherlock, we use them to get into the house after you've locked it."

 

"I know what keys are John, what do you need yours for?" Sherlock made his way to the bookcase where he picked up John's missing keys.

 

“I've got to go to the clinic. Ah, thank you,” he said spotting his keys in Sherlock’s hand.

 

“What do you need to go for? Are you ok?” He held the keys as John reached for them his hand wrapping around Sherlock’s. As much as Sherlock didn't want to discuss the pregnancy he still hoped that John would tell him if he was unwell.

 

“Yes, yes, I'm fine it's a standard appt; check up, scan, make sure the baby's growing properly. Now give me my keys I don't want to be late.” He tugged on the keys but Sherlock kept hold.

 

“Did you...Do you want me to come with you?”

 

John rolled his eyes. “No, thanks but no, I can only imagine how annoying you'd be at an antenatal clinic.”

 

Sherlock loosened his grip on the keys leaning in to kiss John. “Thank you.”

 

John rolled his eyes again kissing Sherlock back. “I'm having lunch with Mike after so I'll see you later.”

 

. . . . .

 

Sherlock hadn't specifically planned to be home when John got back but he'd not found anything to hold his attention outside the flat. He was sprawled over his chair reading when John got home

 

“Oh hiya,” he said pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s hair. “Didn't think you'd be in, nothing exciting going on?” John moved to switch the kettle on. “Tea?”

 

“Please. And no, Lestrade phoned but it was only a 4 and I'm sure even Anderson can handle a 4.” He lolled his head back watching John in the kitchen. Sherlock didn't mention that every time he'd tried to do something else his thoughts had spun back to John and his appointment at the clinic.

 

When John came back he gave Sherlock his tea and sat in his own chair. “You ok?” he smiled.

 

Sherlock nodded “Mmm, yes...are you?”

 

“What? Oh the appointment? Yeah, yeah, all arms and legs present and all that.”

 

Sherlock frowned. “Of course, all your limbs are present John.”

 

John laughed and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Not my limbs, Sherlock.”

 

“Oh right,” he nodded, that made more sense. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that the focus of some things these days was the baby.

 

John grinned at him not sure how he could be so incredibly clever and insightful sometimes and so oblivious at others. “But yeah, I'm fine and the little hitchhiker is growing well too. They gave me a copy of the scan,” John said fishing around in his coat for it.

 

“Is that wise, John? I mean, won't having that just make things harder?” Sherlock watched as his hand stilled in his coat before coming out empty.

 

“It's not for me, it's for when we find adoptive parents. The midwife said it's a good way for them to build a connection to the baby," John stood to hang his coat up, the unseen scan still tucked inside it somewhere. "I just thought you might be interested to see it, my mistake, sorry. I'm going for a bath," he said making his way to the door, stopping when Sherlock called his name.

 

"What?" he sighed not turning around.

 

"I'm glad that you're healthy, the baby too."

 

John nodded and left without saying anything else.

****

**\----------**

****

**** **14 weeks**

"What is that?" Sherlock asked leaning on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, he and John both still pyjama clad.

 

"It's a sandwich Sherlock, and here I was thinking you were a detective," he grinned up at Sherlock.

 

While Sherlock was glad that John was feeling more like his usual self now that his morning sickness seemed to be easing off a straight answer would have been appreciated. "You know that I mean what's on it," he sighed. "It smells awful."

 

"It's amazing," John mumbled around a big bite of it. "It's marmite, mackerel and onion chutney."

 

Sherlock frowned as John took another big bite. "You recognise that that's not normal don't you? I didn't think you even liked marmite?" He moved to flip the kettle on, getting a mug out and watching with a wrinkled nose as John carried on eating his revolting breakfast.

 

"I don’t," he said licking some off his thumb. "Must be a pregnancy craving. I just woke up; wasn't sick again by the way; and this just seemed like the best breakfast ever. Weird, ey?"

 

He ate the last bite of his sandwich and got up to drop his plate in the sink. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, pressing the taller man back against the counter, but Sherlock moved his head away when John leaned in to kiss him.

 

"Absolutely not, I've seen what's just been in your mouth." He frowned, his arms wrapping around John anyway despite his complaints.

 

“You're never normally so fussy about what goes in my mouth," he smirked pressing a kiss to Sherlock's neck.

 

Sherlock smiled, running his hand down John's back, pressing them closer together. "You're in a good mood today." He’d been trying very hard to be understanding about John’s fluctuating emotions but still had no idea sometimes how the man was feeling. He just wanted John back to normal.

 

John nodded kissing the soft skin over Sherlock's collarbone. He felt the shiver that ran through Sherlock and felt a pang of guilt. Between throwing up several times a day, feeling constantly exhausted and the emotional upheaval of the last few weeks, John had been in the mood for nothing more than a hug, and even then he often pulled away as soon as possible.

 

"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot more like myself. I've not been sick for a few days, I can face food again, I'm much less tired, in fact I'm positively energetic." He grinned at Sherlock, dropping a hand to the tie of his robe, running the silky material between his fingers, he pulled Sherlock closer until their lips were almost touching before stepping back, leaving Sherlock off balance. John took another step backwards before turning to leave the kitchen.

 

“Where are you going?” Sherlock called after him.

 

John grinned over his shoulder. “Come and find out.”

 

 

 

As they lay together later, tangled in the sheets, facing each other, Sherlock's hand stroked John’s back. He slowly moved it over John's side, drifting towards his navel. John stilled as Sherlock spread his hand over the soft skin of his stomach, his thumb rubbing small circles against him. Sherlock rarely acknowledged the pregnancy and a physical reference was rarer still.

 

"You're changing already," Sherlock murmured, eyes fixed on where his hand was covering the small bump that was forming there. John had noticed almost two weeks ago that he was a little softer around his middle, then just a few days before he'd struggled to do his jeans up.

 

John nodded, his head rubbing against Sherlock's shoulder. "Mmm, over a third of the way there now." He shoved the sudden 'what ifs' that had popped up out of his head again.

 

"It'll go quickly," Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's hair. John was sure Sherlock was trying to be reassuring but John wasn't sure that was how he felt. "Then we can get on with our normal lives." His thumb was still stroking over John's tummy.

 

"There's a lot more to come before that,” John said quietly, blaming his omega instincts for the way he wanted to press against Sherlock's hand and burrow into the feeling it seemed to spread across his skin. Instead he made himself stay still and ignored the way the warm feeling was replaced by a sinking one.

**\-----------**

****

**17 weeks**

John was glad that the later part of his pregnancy would be over winter, he was hopeful that he could hide his expanding bump for as long as possible behind jumpers and coats. October had started off cold and for once he hoped the chilly weather continued. He'd managed to reach 17 weeks with only Sherlock and his doctors knowing about the pregnancy and John was happy for it to stay that way.

 

He'd had to give in and buy some jeans with an elasticated waist, and he hated them with a passion, refusing to let Sherlock see him in them as much as possible, but with a thick jumper on he just looked like he'd put on a bit of weight, which given the amount he'd been eating no one would doubt he'd been over indulging, they just wouldn't know why.

 

He was at the kitchen table, engrossed in the paper when Mrs Hudson popped in.

 

"Only me John, I've made you some biscuits."

 

"Thanks Mrs H," he said not looking up as he finished his sentence. Just as he did Mrs Hudson tripped over a book that Sherlock had left on the floor and bumped into the kitchen table, spilling John's tea over it.

 

"Oh no, I'm sorry John," she said dropping the plate of biscuits onto a dry patch of table.

 

"Don't worry, it'd gone cold anyway," he smiled hopping up to grab a cloth before the tea went off the edge of the table. "Sherlock should learn to pick up after himself anyway, though I doubt he'll ever-"

 

He was interrupted by a gasp from Mrs Hudson. In his haste to get up and get a cloth he'd not thought about the fact that he was wearing a t-shirt that was maybe a bit too small for his growing bump.

 

"John!" She exclaimed, a hand fluttering to her mouth "Are you pregnant?!"

 

"Ah." John dropped the cloth over the spilled tea. "Er...yes-"

 

"Oh congratulations!" She almost shrieked moving to hug the man. "It's so-"

 

"Well," John interrupted moving out if the hug. "It's not...it isn’t...we’re..." he sighed running a hand over his face before pulling out a chair. “Let's have some tea."

 

 

 

Mrs Hudson cried when John told her they weren't keeping the baby. John had wrapped his arms around her as she cried and then apologised and then cried some more.

 

"I just don't understand," she said, blinking up at him.

 

He smiled softly at her. "I know, it's not an easy thing to understand. I just...it's- can you see me and Sherlock raising a child? With all the madness and the chasing criminals and not sleeping for days and keeping heads in the fridge? Not exactly the setting for an ideal childhood is it? I mean we’re not even bonded," he fiddled with his mug as he said the last part.

 

Mrs Hudson wrapped one of her soft hands over his. "None of that matters though, John. Children don't care if you've got toes in the freezer or don't have a normal job. And times are different now, you don't have to be bonded to have a baby with someone."

 

John nodded squeezing her hand. "I know you're right, I do, but none of those things change the fact that Sherlock and I, well we’re not right for this, for being parents, but I can make sure we give this baby the best start and find it a family who'll really be able to give it everything it deserves." The massive lump was back in his throat and seemed determined not to budge.

 

Mrs Hudson held his hand tighter. "And you don't think that family is you and Sherlock?"

John shook his head squeezing her hand back, not able to get any words out past the lump in his throat.

 

"If you ever want to talk John, you know where I am. I know Sherlock's not the easiest person to talk to."

 

John smiled at her giving her a hug. "Thank you."

 

They sat quietly for a few minutes sipping their tea. John had been worried about other someone else knowing but now he felt relieved. Even though he hated to see Mrs Hudson upset, in some small way he felt reassured that someone else was as sad about the situation as he was. He was sure that this decision was as close to a right one as was possible, but that didn't mean that he wasn't gutted about it.

 

"I've got a scan," he said suddenly. "Would you like to see it?"

 

"Oh yes!" she said, a sad smile on her face. "Yes please!"

 

John got up and fetched a shoe box from his bedside table.

 

"I'm keeping a box of things to give to the adoptive parents," he said sitting down. He pulled out the small photo and handed it over. "There you go. That was about 5 weeks ago."

 

He watched as her eyes became teary again, looking the scan over, a soft look on her face.

 

"Oh John..." she sighed. “It's amazing."

 

John looked away from her and down the scan. "It is isn't it?" He hadn't thought it would be so nice for someone else to see the scan too. "It's weird to think that that little thing is what I can feel moving around inside me."

 

"You can feel it moving?" she asked flicking a smile at him before looking back at the scan.

 

"Yeah," he nodded. “Think I have for a week or so but I've only just realised that's what it is. He or she is pretty active already, so I can only imagine that my insides are going to get used as a bouncy castle before long."

 

She smiled and handed the scan back to him, giving his hand a big squeeze. "Oh John..." she sighed.

 

"I know Mrs H, I know," he pulled her into a hug. "Come on, let's have another cuppa."

 

**\----------**

**18 weeks**

"Sherlock," John groaned. "Come on, get on with it!" He tilted his hips up trying to press closer to the alpha.

 

"I don't want to hurt you," Sherlock responded, pulling back a little, keeping some distance between them. His voice was tight, clearly struggling to keep control.

 

"You won't hurt me, just get a move on!" He whined, shifting to try and close the distance between them.

 

Sherlock moved a little closer, pressing gently against the omega, his cock rubbing against John's, he kissed John's neck, still supporting himself with his hands on either side of John's head.

 

John moaned and let out a sigh. "Sherlock, seriously!"

 

"What?"

 

"Move," John said gruffly. He pushed at Sherlock's chest. "On your back, Holmes."

 

"What?" The detective repeated.

 

"Get on your back. You obviously can't relax like this," John pushed at him til he had Sherlock where he wanted him.

 

Before the detective could question anything John moved to straddle Sherlock's hips, rubbing back against him, pulling a groan from the alpha, his hips canting up as John moved.

 

"Much better," John smirked, pushing back against him again. He reached around to position Sherlock's cock against his eager entrance, Sherlock's hands moving to grip the omega's hips, biting his lip around a moan as John's body took him easily and deeply.

 

" _Much_  better," John gasped as his arse settled against Sherlock's hips.

 

Sherlock held John's hips still for a moment as they adjusted to the position. John grinned down at the alpha, biting his lip as he tensed around him, dragging a moan from both of them. He shifted slightly feeling perfectly full, loving the effect the movement had on his lover. He leaned forward to rest his hands on Sherlock's shoulder, gasping at the change in position. Sherlock pressed up into John's body, using his grip on the omega's hips to pull him back against the thrust, pushing Sherlock's cock deep inside him.

 

John groaned at the feeling, enjoying his pregnant form for once and just how much more sensitive it made him. Sex with Sherlock was always good but this was mind blowing. He lifted himself away from the alpha before dropping down again, Sherlock timed his upward thrust just right to cause John to gasp and tighten around him. Sherlock panted as John moved, his brain slowly dissolving into a chorus of  _so tight, so hot, so wet, so amazing_  as John rode him.

 

John pushed himself upright, dropping down on Sherlock's full length in a way the previous position hadn't allowed. Sherlock bent his knees bringing his feet flat on the bed so John could lean back on them. The movement of the alpha's hips was restricted like this but he was so deep in the omega he didn't care. Watching John move was more than enough to keep the alpha gasping and moaning.

 

"Oh fuck yes," John moaned grinding his arse down against Sherlock. "Don't- please- keep going- please just-" John groaned ending his garbled request.

 

"I do love making you incoherent," Sherlock gasped, managing to grin up at John, his hands stroking up John’s thighs.

 

"Don't be- ah- don't be smug," John panted out, returning Sherlock's grin.

 

They moved against each other until John was begging for Sherlock to touch his cock and was grinding down in small circles, Sherlock buried to the hilt inside him. Sherlock gladly obeyed the demand wrapping his hand around John's hard length.

 

The doctor moaned loudly, thrusting into Sherlock's firm grip, which in turn pushed his rounded belly against Sherlock's hand. He pulled back not wanting to freak the alpha out, but as he moved, Sherlock's hand released his cock and pressed back against his belly, fingers tracing up along the newly appeared dark line of skin from where John's cock met his abdomen up to his belly button, then smoothing across and down the round form of John's belly.

 

"Is this ok?" Sherlock asked, voice gravelly, his hand moving to stroke John's cock while the other carried on caressing his belly.

 

John sucked in a stuttering breath, the feeling of Sherlock's hand on his belly making him feel like all his nerves were being fried. "Oh fuck yes, don't stop, please don't stop." His omega instincts couldn't help but press against the touch of Sherlock's hands. The touch on his cock was amazing, but it was mind blowing to John that Sherlock would willingly stroke and caress his pregnant belly. The omega in him had apparently been desperate for the touch of his baby's father, and John was now writhing and moaning as he moved above Sherlock.

 

Sherlock’s head dropped back, watching John move, his hands moving across the unexplored territory of John’s changing body.

 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Sherlock choked out, his hips pressing up harder against John.

 

“Oh fuck, Sherlock, oh god, please,” he stuttered out.

 

Sherlock tried to match the hand on John's cock to the pace of hips, obviously doing something right as John let out a long low moan before suddenly tensing hard around Sherlock, pushing into the firm grip of the alpha’s hand, spilling his load over Sherlock’s hand and stomach, gasping as he felt Sherlock tense beneath him as he reached his own climax.

 

Sherlock had enough brain power left to help John move to lie down next to him, both of them panting and sweaty.

 

John lay with his eyes shut feeling the now familiar and harmless tensing of his womb. It took him a few moments to come back to himself a little. When he tilted his head to look at Sherlock he found the man uncommonly still next to him.

 

“You ok?” He mumbled rolling to look at the detective, frowning when Sherlock barely nodded. “Hey, why do you look like you’re having some kind of crisis?”

 

Sherlock finally turned to face John, a stricken look on his face. “I’m sorry John.”

 

“What?” John’s brows pulled together in confusion.

 

“I shouldn't have done that,” Sherlock said dragging a hand through his hair.

 

“What? Sherlock, I don’t understand,” he leant up on one arm. “What’s wrong?”

 

Sherlock sighed, a hand dramatically flung over his eyes. “It’s not fair of me to behave like that. I know this situation, the pregnancy, is hard for you, it shouldn't be something that I...enjoy like that. I wasn't expecting it and I’m sorry.”

 

John bit back a smirk, not wanting Sherlock to think he was mocking him when he was clearly struggling with something. “Are you talking about you touching my bump and liking how I look at the moment?”

 

Sherlock nodded.

 

John rolled his eyes, prying Sherlock’s hand off his face so he could look at him. “Sherlock, it’s fine, it’s more than fine, it’s normal. Despite how we might feel about all this, you’re an alpha and I’m a pregnant omega, more than that I’m an omega that  _you_  got pregnant. Biologically right now I’m designed to make you want me.”

 

Sherlock said nothing.

 

John smiled softly at him. “Come on, don’t feel bad, please. It’s a good thing.”

 

“Is it?” Sherlock finally managed to get out.

 

“I understand why you feel weird about this, I do, but in a really shallow way I’m glad that you want to have sex with me,” John smiled and stroked a hand through Sherlock’s hair. “This is the strangest time of my life, I feel like I’m losing touch with who I am and my body is changing so much and so quickly that I go between feeling like I’m turning into a walking, talking whale and like I've never been hornier in my life, and I was in the army,” He grinned at Sherlock, poking him gently in the side. “So it’s handy that you’re still keen on sleeping with me.”

 

Sherlock managed a half smile, pulling John closer to him. “Well...since it’s handy I’ll try not to feel too bad.”

 

“Good,” John smirked, kissing him softly. “Try your best.”

 

**\----------**

**19 weeks**

“Ok, ok,” John said pushing himself up off the sofa as the doorbell rang persistently. “Why can you never remember your sodding keys!” He said trudging down the stairs. He’d been waiting for Sherlock to get home for 20 minutes. “And why are you so late, I’m starving, eating for two remember!” He complained as he opened the door, having to drop his gaze as the person at the door was shorter than he was expecting, and greyer, and all round less Sherlocky than he’d thought.

 

“Ah, Greg, I er-“

 

“Not who you were expecting,” the DI asked with a raised brow, his eyes flicking to John's middle.

 

"Ah, no...I suppose you'd better come in," John said, moving back from the door.

 

"Yeah, I think we need to talk," Lestrade replied.

 

John had a feeling this was going to be a long evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really struggled with the formatting of this one so if you spot anything off with that please do let me know and I'll try to correct it. Thanks!


	3. But you know, I hated to close the door on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As John's pregnancy becomes ever more apparent, the people around them start to find out. John and Sherlock's methods of telling people about their plans differ ever so slightly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'm so sorry that this has taken so long to post. I struggled a bit with part of it, and also life's just kicking my ass a little at the moment, nothing that won't improve soon, but 'never rains but it pours' could be my motto lately! 
> 
> Anyway, usual disclaimers, I don't own anything or anyone, read the tags in case any of that's triggery for you.
> 
> Finally, thank you so much for reading and for comments and kudos. Your responses have been so great and really make my day every time. Con Crit very welcome.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy, hopefully won't take so long for the next chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> \------------

_Well mercy me, I'll be goddamned_  
 _It's been a long long time since I last saw you_  
 _And I have never known the plan_  
 _It's been a long, long time, how are you_  
  
 _Your eyes are green, your hair is gold_  
 _Your hair is black, your eyes are blue_  
 _I closed the ranks and I doubled back_  
 _But you know, I hated to close the door on you_

 

_Baby Birch - Joanna Newsom_

_\-----------_

**19 weeks**

 

John wasn't sure how he expected Lestrade to react but he was glad the Detective Inspector went with listening calmly, especially as Sherlock could have got home at any time and John wasn't really sure this was a conversation he wanted to have with Sherlock's interruptions.

John realised as he thought that that he had no idea if Sherlock had told anyone about the baby. He didn’t have time to think about that now though, not with a baffled looking Greg Lestrade sat opposite him.

"You ok mate?" John asked. "You need a beer? I'm not sure it'll help much. I keep thinking it might but can't try it for myself to find out."

Greg grinned at him. "I think it'll take more than a beer for me to get my head round all that." He leaned back in Sherlock's chair. "I can't believe you’ve kept it quiet for so long, I thought you were just avoiding me. You're really almost halfway through already?"

"Yeah," John smiled, patting absently at his ever more obvious bump. "Didn't find out til nine weeks though, so..." He shrugged.

Greg nodded absently. "So have you got all the wheels in motion? With social workers and all that?" The DI was nothing if not practical.

"Er, well not really, not yet," John stood up busying himself with clearing their mugs away.

"Right," Greg said watching him carefully. "I thought that was the kind of thing you'd need to get on with as soon as possible?"

John nodded still finding something to do in the kitchen. "Yeah, probably is. The midwife gave me some info about it, and I phoned but the person I needed to speak to wasn't there and it’s just...been busy I guess," he trailed off before finally giving up his quest to find things to do in the kitchen and returning to his seat opposite the DI.

Greg watched him for a moment but when John didn't say anything else he spoke again. "That sounds little bit like excuses to me mate."

John refused to let himself squirm, shifting only slightly. "You might be right. It's been easy, despite the bump, to pretend that nothing’s changed, but I don't think I'll get away with that for long now."

"I'd say not, people are going to be able to spot it whether you tell them or not. Also, you're a grown up doctor not a teenager who can convince himself that if he doesn't tell anyone that he's up the duff then maybe it won't happen," he held John in a firm gaze.

"Yeah," John replied collapsing back in his chair with a long sigh. "Yeah you're right, there's loads to sort out. I guess it'll just seem real once we get the ball rolling."

Greg nodded again, leaning forward in the chair. "It's real either way John."

Before he could say more or John could respond Sherlock had appeared on the doorway.

"Ah, Lestrade, did you need something? Or were you just here to _chat_?" He'd gone into the kitchen before Lestrade could answer, John following him with a roll of his eyes.

"You could, maybe, just once in a while, greet people who are in our flat as if they're welcome guests rather than annoyances," John chastised Sherlock, taking the bag of food off him. "And where have you been? I'm starving!"

"The usual place was shut and the next decent one is across town," he replied as he shrugged his coat off throwing it over the back of John's chair. He frowned at Lestrade. "You're still here."

"Well spotted," Greg replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Did you want something?"

"Not specifically but since you're here I've got some files in my car I could use your opinion on." Greg stood from the chair, poking his head into the kitchen. "I know the pub's out for now but how about a coffee next week?"

John nodded looking up from where he'd been dishing up takeaway. "Sounds great," he smiled. "Thanks for the chat."

"Anytime," the DI said returning John's smile.

Sherlock ducked into the kitchen pressing a kiss to John's cheek. "I'll be quick but go ahead without me."

"As if I'd wait!" John grinned, already taking a bite of his food.

__  
  
  


Outside Greg pulled some files from the passenger side if his car, handing them to Sherlock but not letting go of his side, keeping them close together.

"You're going to hold these files so anyone looking, John included, will think they're what we're talking about," his voice was firm but quiet.

"Are they not?" Sherlock asked narrowing his eyes.

"No," Lestrade replied staying close to the taller man. "Clearly not, Sherlock. What the _fuck_  is going on?"

For a moment Sherlock wasn't sure what he was talking about but as realisation dawned on him his face grew stern.

"It's none of your business." His voice was icy.

"John is my friend so it is my business."

"The baby is mine and John's and nothing to do with _anyone_  else. We do _not_  want it, so we are doing what we think is best, there is nothing about this to discuss."

"And you're certain it's what both of you think is for the best?"

"This was John's idea!" Sherlock answered through gritted teeth.

"That's not the impression I got from him," Lestrade had known Sherlock long enough not to be cowed by him.

"What?" Sherlock's voice was sharp. " _He_  suggested this."

"I got the impression that this was the only solution John could see working, rather than what he'd actually _choose_. You know what he's like Sherlock, he's fair and he wants to keep everyone happy, and he's ridiculously gone for you. I don't want him to do something that'll be bad for him just because it's what you want."

"I would never ask him to-"

"That's the point! You wouldn't have to ask. He knows you Sherlock," Greg sighed. "All I'm saying is that maybe you should double check with him, ok? Make sure he wants this too."

Sherlock nodded letting go of his side of the file. "Your concern is noted Detective Inspector, but I'd appreciate it if you'd leave the topic _alone_." He turned and headed back to the flat.

"Fine, _we_  don't have to talk about it, but if John wants to then I'm all ears," Greg called after him.

Sherlock didn't acknowledge him as he let himself back into 221b.

__  
  
  


John was almost asleep by the time Sherlock had thought through what Lestrade had said.

"John," Sherlock murmured, smiling despite himself as John snuffled against the pillow.

"Mmm?" He managed, eyes not opening as he pressed closer to Sherlock.

"Are you still ok with this? With the adoption?" His arm was around the omega so he could feel him stiffen slightly.

A few moments of silence passed before he felt John take a deep breath against his neck.

"I still want you Sherlock."

"That wasn't the question," Sherlock said softly.

"It's my answer though...I can't have you _and_  this baby, and I don't think I can live without you, so it's what I want."

They lay in silence for a while before John eventually spoke again.

"I'll make an appointment with the social worker tomorrow." With that he rolled over and the discussion was ended.

__  
  


\------------

__  
  


**20 weeks**

Sherlock sighed as the black car pulled up alongside him. He turned to face it, waiting for the car door to open. When he peered in he was surprised to find that his brother was the car’s only occupant.

“No minion with you today, brother?” He asked sliding into the seat next to Mycroft.

“I'm not here about work Sherlock, so there was no need to be accompanied.”

Sherlock dropped his head back against the headrest. “And you didn't feel like kidnapping John this time?”

“I thought it best not to given his _condition_ ,” Mycroft replied, pulling a folder out of his briefcase. “You can imagine my surprise when I was informed that a John Watson had been registered as a patient at an antenatal clinic.” He tilted his head to look at Sherlock, the younger man refusing to meet his brother’s gaze.

“If you weren't spying on us then you wouldn't know anything to be surprised by would you?” Sherlocks tone was studiously bored, but inside he was furious at the level of his brothers snooping.

“I'm merely concerned Sherlock you know I worry-”

“You are not concerned, you are controlling," Sherlock interrupted sitting up in his seat. “So now you know, what do you want?”

Mycroft turned to face Sherlock more. “I don't _want_  anything, Sherlock. I am concerned about you and John. There's been no happy announcement, not even to your brother, but yet the information,” he shook the folder in his hand, “doesn't suggest any medical problems, with John or the foetus, in fact quite the opposite.” He flicked the file open a few pages. "' _Omega in good health, no unusual or concerning symptoms. Baby appears in perfect health, all developmental milestones reached, as shown in the attached 20 week scan. Omega has requested not to know the sex of the baby. All progressing normally and -_ '"

“That's enough!” Sherlock interrupted. “Those notes are private Mycroft, they are none of your business!” His anger was barely contained, largely because he hated Mycroft’s meddling, but also because he hadn't realised that John had had another scan.

It must have been in the last few days. Sherlock had been engrossed in a case that John hadn't been able to join him on due to potentially toxic chemicals being involved. He must have missed John going. He'd barely been home, and John had been annoyed at Shelock’s reaction to the last scan, but he still didn't like it.

"And legally Sherlock, they're none of yours." Mycroft was as annoyingly calm as always.

“What are you talking about?” Sherlock looked briefly out of the tinted window, considering if he'd do himself any serious damage if he jumped out of the moving car. Sadly it was going too fast for him to be sure.

“You and John are not bonded. If he chooses not to include you in any of his medical appointments then you have no right to know anything. He could easily leave you off the birth certificate and then your rights to the child will be much harder to prove -”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and interrupted Mycroft again. “It doesn’t matter-”

“Of course it matters Sherlock. This baby is a Holmes, probably the only Holmes child that either of us will produce. Everything that’s left to us will be left to it-”

“It doesn’t matter Mycroft! John and I are not keeping the baby so you needn’t worry about the legality of it all.” He turned away from his brother, not enjoying the floundering expression on his normally calm face as much as he would have expected.

“What?” Mycroft managed to sound almost normal, but Sherlock knew him too well and could hear the unsteady tone even in just one word.

Sherlock sighed like he was bored of the whole thing, which was somewhat true, he did hate to repeat himself, but he also found himself uncomfortable with the conversation more than he wanted to think about.

“John and I did not plan to have this baby, we don’t want it so we’re arranging for it to be adopted. Thus no need to worry about _inheritance_.”

"And John agreed to this?"

"Why does everyone ask that? This was his suggestion."

"And what was your suggestion, Sherlock?"

Mycroft's tone was insufferable, as always.

"This is none of your business Mycroft! This is between me and my-"

"Your what? John is _not_  your mate, you are not bonded, he has no-"

"John knows how I feel about him we don't need to be bonded-"

"Is that something else that you decided together?"

Sherlock leaned forward. "Driver, pull over or I will throw myself out of this car," he threw Mycroft a look over his shoulder at the last part. The driver looked at Mycroft in the rear view mirror, watching the man give a short nod.

As soon as the car slowed to a non-dangerous speed Sherlock had shoved the door open, but turned before he was fully out of the car.

"I'm serious Mycroft, this is nothing to do with you. Do not bring it up again, and do _not_  discuss this with John or I will not be responsible for my actions."

Before Mycroft could respond Sherlock had slammed the car door shut and run off into the evening.

__  
  
  


John hadn't been surprised when Sherlock wasn't home at bedtime, it wasn't rare for him to go to bed alone when Sherlock was on a case, at least not these days when John couldn't run after him. He'd never admit it to anyone but not being able to go with Sherlock on cases made him feel useless, but even if just being on a crime scene didn't make Lestrade shift around nervously and look at him like he was worried he might drop dead at any moment, John just didn't have the energy to run about without food and sleep like they used to.

When he'd trudged off to bed, knackered and knowing he had no hope of keeping up with Sherlock at the moment, he'd sighed and wondered how he'd ever, even for a second, thought that they could bring a child into this life.

He shivered as he felt cold air and then colder hands move over him.

"Mmm, solve the case?" His voice was a mumble into the pillow.

Sherlock pressed closer, kissing John's neck. "Obviously."

John chuckled, closing his eyes as he shifted in Sherlock's hold. "Of course, silly me." His voice was still thick with sleep, but his tone was amused.

Sherlock shifted, pressing his head against John's neck, breathing his scent in deeply. "You know that you mean more to me than anyone I've ever known, don't you?"

John rolled over slowly, a hand moving to Sherlock's face. "Hey, where's that come from?"

Sherlock pressed against John's hand. "I... realised that when we began this I thought that sleeping together wouldn't change how I felt about you because...I didn't think I could possibly feel more for you than I already did, but...I was wrong and I think I might have made you think that I just wanted to be friends who shared heats."

John, still sleep sluggish and confused, furrowed his brow. "Well, that is more or less what you said Sherlock..."

Sherlock nodded, his face still close to John's neck. "I know, because...because I liked how things were, and I wanted things to stay that way but with the addition of your heats. I thought it would just be fulfilling a biological urge for both of us. I never imagined that I would feel even more about you than I did but...I do. And while I still don't feel that bonding is necessary, I also find that the thought of you spending your heats, or any significant time really, with anyone else makes me feel...unpleasant."

John wasn't sure what to say, what he thought even, about Sherlock's declaration, or as close to a declaration as Sherlock got. "That sounds a lot like you're asking me to go steady with you," he said eventually, running a hand through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock smiled in spite of himself, still pressed close to John. "I'm trying to be serious John."

"I know, sorry, I just don't know what to say. What is it that you want Sherlock?"

He looked at John tilting his head back. "You. Us, the two of us, here, solving crimes, together, and I don't want to be with anyone else, and I don't want you to be with anyone else either. Would that be agreeable?"

John grinned against Sherlock's hair, loving how the detective became even more posh during awkward conversations. "Yes, you're an idiot but yes, that sounds very agreeable. That's what I want too."

"Good." Sherlock managed to wrap himself around John even more than before, pressing a kiss to the soft space where John’s neck met his jaw.

Just as John was drifting back off to sleep, Sherlock sighed softly. “Mycroft knows, by the way. I told him neither of us wanted his opinion so if he tries to kidnap you again just let me know.”

John nodded, stroking a hand through the detective’s soft curls. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock murmured still wrapping himself around John.

“Ok,” John yawned. “Ok.”

As John fell asleep Sherlock tried to delete Mycroft’s words from his mind, but like so often in their past, Mycroft seemed to have a way to make his words stick, and Sherlock eventually fell asleep with the conversation still ringing in his ears.

__  
  
  


\--------------------------------------

**21 weeks**

John pulled the zip on his coat up so hard that he was slightly amazed that it didn’t come off in his hand. His amazement as miniscule and short lived though, buried as it was in his fury.

He stood by the kerb, his arm out, trying to hail a cab. “Come on, come on.” He muttered under his breath. Today wasn’t his day it seemed and no cab stopped, not until a familiar coat clad arm was suddenly mirroring his gesture. Then a cab stopped in no time.

John huffed as he got in the cab, letting Sherlock give the address, too furious to complain about why Sherlock never seemed to struggle to get a cab like John did.

“John…” Sherlock hesitated. “do you want to talk about-”

“No. Yes. No. She was so...I can’t believe...Just the unprofessional...I’ve never been so patronised in my life, and I live with you!”

Sherlock ignored the lack of full sentences letting John fume for a few more minutes. “I know she was a bit abrasive-”

“Abrasive?! She was downright rude. She’s a social worker for fucks sake, she’s not meant to judge. Did you hear her when she found out I was a doctor? ‘ _Oh, you’d think you’d know better._  Like I’ve been shagging everyone in sight without any protection, not just one person, while using contraception. Not that it’s any of her fucking business!”

“I know she was a bit rude John-”

“A bit?! Fucking hell...that’s not- it isn’t- the worst part is that this is the person that we’re entrusting this baby to! How can we expect her to make an informed decision when she clearly didn’t listen to one fucking word we said?!”

Sherlock wasn’t sure what to say and he hated it. He hated being the one left in a room after the other had stormed out. He didn’t like feeling like the one who had to be reasonable. None of this was the way things should be.

“She was rude, you’re right, but she’s been a social worker for a long time, I’m sure she’s good at her job, John, even if she isn’t a people person.”

John let out a long sigh. “You realise you just described yourself?”

Sherlock smirked at him. “That wasn’t my intention but the comparison works.”

John rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine...fine. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And we don’t have to see her that often, like she said there’ll be a caseworker assigned for the paperwork and all that, and they’ll be our main contact.”

John raised an eyebrow at him. “You actually listened to what she said?”

“One of us had to John.”

John’s scowled finally relaxed a little, turning into not quite a smile, but closer than it had been all day. “Thank you.” He reached across and squeezed Sherlock’s hand.

“Shut up,” Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes, but John caught the small hint of a smile, just the barest curve of Sherlock’s lips, and that tiny movement made John feel better than he had all day.

__  
  


\-----------------------------------

__  
  


**22 weeks**

__  
  


John made his way through the busy cafe, looking out for the person he was meeting. His coat was over one arm, the weather far too warm for it. He couldn't remember why he'd brought it in the first place.

He apologised to a man he bumped into, nodding politely as he edged past him, his attention caught by the cakes and cookies on display on the counter. There were more kinds than he could name and they called looked delicious.

He wound his way through the tables and chairs, head bobbing up and down trying to spot his companion, though he felt like he couldn’t quite remember who he was meeting.

'Daddy!' Came a voice above the background noise. 'Dad, over here!' He turned toward the voice; a young woman was smiling back at him, waving him over to a small table near the back of the crowded cafe. He approached the table on shaky legs, his heart pounding in his ears.

The woman wrapped John up in a big hug before dropping back into her seat.

‘I got the usual,’ she smiled gesturing at the cakes in the table. ‘You’re always much better at splitting them though so I've left that for you,’ she grinned at him pushing one of the cakes toward him.

John's legs felt like jelly so he dropped into the seat opposite the grinning woman, wiping his sweaty palms on his knees.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was beautiful, about the same height as John, slim and delicately built. Black curly hair fell loose down her back. Her eyes were beautifully blue, clear and sharp and bright. She was probably about 25, John thought, taking her in.

_His daughter._

"Are you ok daddy?" She asked, head tilted to one side, her concerned expression one Sherlock had given him so many times.

_**Their**  daughter_.

"Daddy?"

He opened his mouth to respond but his mouth felt like it was full of sand.

"Dad?"

He reached his hand to his mouth, touching his fingers to it, his chest clenching in horror as his hand came away bloody. He coughed once and when he pulled his hand back this time his palm was full of his teeth. He stared at the mess in his hand, his head snapping up only to find everything around him fading to grey, including the beautiful girl opposite him.

"Wait!" He tried to shout, his motion only dropping more teeth into his hands, voice muffled. "Please! Please wait!"

The greyness closed in around him before suddenly snapping to the darkness of his and Sherlock's bedroom.

He looked around, heart pounding, finding himself sitting up and gasping for breath.

"John? John, what's wrong?" Sherlock's hand moved to take John's pulse as he sat up next to him.

John swallowed and pressed his hand over his eyes. He tried to take a deep breath, his eyes screwing shut as he tried to keep the vision from his dream in his head. It already felt slightly out of reach the way that dreams always did; as if the act of trying to keep hold of it only made it move further away.

He couldn't hold back the sob that escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he tried to get a grip on himself.

_Just a dream_ , he told himself, unsure though whether he thought that to sooth or punish himself. He dragged in a deep breath, dropping his hands to his bump, under which the baby was wriggling and unsettled.

"John?" Sherlock's voice was full of concern. "What's wrong?"

"Just a dream," he managed to choke out. He pushed back the covers, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed.

Sherlock stroked his back softly. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," John nodded eventually. "I need some water." He pushed himself up on unsteady legs, leaving Sherlock in bed.

John was leaning against the counter, head between his arms when Sherlock walked in.

"It's because of the case worker isn't it?" He said, a few steps behind John.

"I don't want to talk about it," the omega mumbled.

"John-"

"No!" He spun around to face the alpha. "No! I don't want to talk about it. I've had enough talking about it, enough! I can't talk any more without going insane!"

He spun around to flick the kettle on before turning it off just as violently. "And I just want one cup of _normal fucking tea_!" He slumped against the counter his hands over his face.

Sherlock carefully approached him and when John didn't shout at him or push him away Sherlock wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pressing a kiss to his hair. He knew John didn’t need or want to be coddled and Sherlock didn’t know whether it was hormones or just the growing closeness between them but Sherlock couldn’t help but want to look after John at the moment.

"I think one cup of tea would be fine John," he said softly, holding John close to him.

John eventually nodded against Sherlock. "I know, I do, I think it'd just make me feel more guilty though. Besides, the little thing's already wriggly enough without caffeinating it too." He sighed and pressed closer, embarrassed at his outburst and hating that he felt so comforted by Sherlock without the alpha even needing to do anything.

 

He felt Sherlock's gaze fall to where John was stroking his bump soothingly.

"See," he said, taking Sherlock's hand and pressing it to side of his belly where some of the movement was concentrated. He pressed Sherlock's hand against the bump a little more firmly, unsure if Sherlock would be able to feel it yet and unsure if he’d even want to. He was about to let go when he heard a sudden intake of breath from the detective.

John couldn't help but grin as Sherlock kept his hand pressed against the bump, sliding it around as the squirming baby moved position.

He looked up at John, his hand still moving gently over him. "That's...astonishing."

John grinned and nodded. "Weird, ey?"

Sherlock nodded, as his hand moved again still following the movement. "What bit is it that I can feel moving?"

"I'd guess a foot," he said as he pressed his hand next to Sherlock's on his bump.

"That's...wow," Sherlock's gaze was once again fixed on the bump.

John smiled and nodded even though Sherlock couldn't see him. He let out a gentle sigh and moved to hold Sherlock's hand, dislodging it from his belly.

Sherlock looked up, disappointment on his face.

"I need more sleep," John said, squeezing his hand before pressing a kiss to his confused face.

__  
  


\----------

__  
  


**23 weeks**

 

John’s morning had been a blur so was happy to have a cancelled appointment which gave him time to make a cup of tea. He was halfway to the kettle before he noticed the excited gaggle of nurses in the break room.

 

John hadn't told everyone at work about his pregnancy, but he'd told a few people and through a combination of his bump being fairly obvious now and general workplace gossip everyone knew that he was pregnant and most of them knew about the adoption too, thought they talked about that much more subtly than the usual work place chatter.

 

"What's going on?" he asked with a smile, stirring his boring fake tea.

"Oh! Hi, Dr Watson!" One of the nurses broke away from the group and moved toward him, a grin splitting his face. "I've brought in a cake, my mate's pregnant!"

The nurse sounded so thrilled that John couldn't help grin at him.

"Congratulations, that's great news Graham!" He shook the man’s hand.

"Thanks! I'm so happy, must be driving my mate mad though,” he said conspiratorially. “I just always want to touch him and I'm fussing over him all the time, he hates it, keeps shouting at me. You must know all about that though!" He added with a laugh, eyes dropping to John’s bump.

John forced himself to keep smiling, even managing a half hearted chuckle. "Well, congrats again. I better get back," he gestured toward his office. "Really great news."

In the safety of his office he dropped his head into his hands, letting out a slow breath. He rubbed a hand over his belly, fingers moving in small circles.

 

_'I'm sorry,_ ’ he thought. _'I'm sorry that no one's bringing in cakes just because you exist, and I'm sorry that Sherlock's not gushing about you, or me, to anyone that'll listen...I promise we'll find you a family that are excited and can't wait to meet you...'_

 

He rubbed a hand over his face. "I need to get a grip," he said to the empty room with a shake of his head.

__  
  


 

\----------------------------------------

 

**24 weeks**

__  
  


Sherlock was bent over a body in the morgue examining an unusual growth when the door swung open. Before he could turn to see who it was he was embraced in an unexpected hug.

"Congratulations! I can't believe you didn't tell me, but congratulations!"

He unwound Molly's small arms from around him, turning to face her as he held her at arm’s length. "What on _earth_  are you talking about?" He asked, brows furrowed.

"You and John having a baby, _obviously_! I saw John this morning when I was buying milk, he was just leaving Tesco so I don’t think he saw me but his bump's pretty obvious! You kept that quiet," she smiled widely at him but when the smile wasn't returned she babbled on. "I mean, if you're not telling people I'll keep it to myself...I'm just surprised that you've not mentioned it. Oh! I can knit you something! Do you know if it's a boy or girl yet? Not that stereotypical colours are-"

"We're not keeping it," Sherlock interrupted letting go of her, turning back to the body. "No need to knit anything."

"What...What do you mean?" Molly couldn’t have sounded more confused if she tried.

"The baby's going to be adopted," he said not turning back to her. Other than Mycroft he'd not had to tell anyone this before, John had told the few people that knew and Sherlock found he didn't want to discuss it much with Molly or anyone else.

"Adopted?"

Sherlock was amazed at how much the concept baffled some people. "Yes adopted, so no need to congratulate me, or John. We don't want children and our birth control failed us so we're having the baby adopted."

Molly opened her mouth to say something but before she could get anything out Sherlock zipped the body back up. "Thank you for letting me look at this one." With that he headed out of the morgue, leaving an open mouthed Molly in the middle of the room.

__  
  


\---------

__  
  


**25 weeks**

John fidgeted in the plush chair; he was certain he was underdressed for such a formal space. Not that it really mattered, he wasn't going to be here long, and it seemed fitting that he was uncomfortable given what he was here for.

"He's free now, you can go through."

John stood up, smiling and nodding at the woman whose attention didn't leave her phone. "Thanks."

As he shut the office door behind him Mycroft stood up from his desk. "John, a pleasure to see you as always," he gestured to a pair of armchairs in front of an unused fireplace. "I'm assuming we don't need to sit at my desk for whatever you're here for?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Um, no, no here's fine," he said easing himself into the chair, Mycroft taking the one opposite.

"I trust you're in good health? Would you like a drink or anything?"

"No, thanks, I won't be here long. And I'm fine, just rapidly approaching the size of a whale I think," he smiled at Mycroft. "I...I'll just get to the point, I know you're busy and Holmes’ and small talk don’t really go together. So...I um, I wanted a favour, well...two I suppose, really."

Mycroft nodded. "Do go on, I'll need to hear them before I know if I can oblige." The man was a politician through and through.

John fidgeted in his seat again, massively uncomfortable with asking Mycroft for anything. "Right, well...I want you to look into whatever adoptive family gets chosen for the baby." One hand was resting on top of his bump, rubbing soothing circles against it.

Mycroft had his usual unreadable expression on his face. "Social services will do all of that John, they're very thorough."

"Not as thorough as you," John's eyes fixed on Mycroft's now. "I need to know that he or she is going to the best family possible."

Mycroft nodded. "Understandable. I'll see what I can do." He regarded John for a moment. "You said there were two favours."

"Ah, yeah," John shifted again. He knew that favours from Mycroft came at a high price but he thought for this one it’d be worth it, whatever the price. "I want you to keep an eye on the baby, on the family they go to."

The request sat between them, the silence stretching on.

"John, do you think it would be wise for you to have that kind of information?" His hands were steepled in front of him.

"I don't want...I don't think I could handle _having_  that information, but I want to know that _someone_  is keeping tabs, even in a very distant way..." He trailed off. He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted, but he didn't feel like he could just send the baby off to an unknown family without knowing that someone was keeping track, just in case, just to be sure. "I just need to know that he or she will be ok."

Mycroft still looked as inscrutable as always. "You've chosen a closed adoption John, that means-"

"I know what it means Mycroft, and I'm not even going to ask how you know that either. I’m not asking you to get me birthday cards and photos, I'm asking you to keep tabs enough so that if anything goes massively wrong the correct people will be informed," he sighed. "I just want him or her to have a safety net, and if that can’t be me or Sherlock...well, you're the next best that I can think of." He looked Mycroft in the eyes, hoping he’d understand.

Mycroft finally nodded. "I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," John said, standing to leave. Before he left the room he turned back to where Mycroft was still sitting. "Mycroft, could you not tell Sherlock that I was here today?"

"Of course." He watched John leave before going to his desk and pulling out a file from his bottom drawer that was labelled 'Baby W.' He wrote a quick note inside before pressing the buzzer on his desk. "Anthea, could you come in please?"

  

_\---------------------  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. It's 1.30 am, so if there's any formatting errors forgive me! I'll read it through again in the morning but if you spot any dodgy formatting let me know and I'll amend it.


	4. I wish we could take every path, I could spend 100 years adoring you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's ok Molly, it’s difficult to know what to say sometimes. This whole thing is an exercise in awkward conversations and awkward situations."
> 
>  
> 
> Molly nodded. "I just...everyone else that I've known that's been pregnant, well, it's been a big exciting thing, and I've known what to say because they all loved hearing congratulations. But I’m your friend I shouldn't have been avoiding you just because I feel awkward, I’m so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> Thanks for the awesome feedback on the previous chapters, it's been so lovely and overwhelming to get such great comments, it honestly makes my day every time. 
> 
> As usual, read the tags in case any of that's not your bag (I also realised I'd not updated the tags for the last chapter, oops, no major ones but still, have done that now). Also, I own nothing and no one, etc etc. I also don't know a lot about the adoption process. I've tried to read up about it and inform myself but there's not a huge amount of information that's easily accessible, so hopefully there's not too much oddness, anything too strange just blame it on Omegaverse yeah?
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take too long but RL is insanely busy at the moment, but I'll try my best to post soon! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading, again, I'm posting this late at night, so let me know if you spot any errors etc. Con crit very welcome!
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> P.s. just edited out a few typos and bits of missing punctuation (26th Sept)

**\---------**

_I wish we could take every path_   
_I could spend a hundred years adoring you_   
_Yes, I wish we could take every path,_   
_Because I hated to close the door on you_

 

_Baby Birch - Joanna Newsom_

**\-------**

**26 weeks**

 

"Hi John, have you got a minute?"

 

John looked up to see Sarah's smiling face at the door to his examination room. "Of course, yeah, just updating some notes, but any interruption to that is welcome."

 

Sarah came into the room, shutting the door behind her before sitting in the chair opposite John's.

 

"Uh oh, a door shut kind of minute, am I in trouble?" He smiled at her, pushing the notes he'd been working on to one side.

 

"Don't be silly, your work's been great, as usual. I just need to talk to you about something a little bit...delicate."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Um, we need to discuss your parental leave requirements," she said gently.

 

Sarah had been one of the first people John had told about his pregnancy in a conversation that had been equal parts awkward and painful. She'd been very understanding and had, unknown to John, tried to discourage the workplace gossip as much as possible.

 

"Ah, well...I won't need a lot of time."

 

Sarah nodded. "Well I've had a little look at all the HR stuff about parental leave and you're eligible for the standard parental entitlement, if you wanted to take it. You also legally _have_ to take 2 weeks off after the birth. I know that that's sort of one extreme to the other though, saying you can take anywhere between 2 weeks and 52 weeks leave."

 

John managed a weak smile and nodded. "Yeah...I've not really thought about it yet."

 

"Well there's plenty of time, and we'll be able to find cover for you, so don't worry about that."

 

John nodded again but didn't say anything.

 

"Look, I know my opinion's probably not of much interest to you, but as a doctor I'd feel uncomfortable with you taking less than 6 weeks, and as a friend I'd recommend more. You'll need time to adjust, physically and emotionally."

 

John nodded. "Yeah, well...6 weeks sounds...reasonable. I'll probably be bored out of my mind." He smiled weakly at her. John tried to think about _after_ as little as possible.

 

"Ah, I'm sure Sherlock will love having you around more." Sarah's returned smile was a very kind one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

 

"Mmm, probably have me chasing all over London with him again."

 

Sarah bit her lip nervously. "How, um, how are things going with the, er, adoption process? Did you go and see the counsellor your case worker recommended?"

 

"Yeah," John said letting out a harsh laugh. "Last week."

 

"And?"

 

"Dreadful," he rolled his eyes. "He was awful, so patronising and touchy feely, kept talking about grief and guilt being intertwined and to not rush myself. Not sure what he thought I'd be rushing into." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't think I'll be in a hurry to go back, I just wanted to roll my eyes at everything he said and I don't think that'd be very productive."

 

"Maybe a different counsellor would be better?"

 

"Hmm, maybe, can't really imagine it'd help though, I mean, I know that I'm going to feel dreadful afterwards, and guilty for a long time, I don't need someone to tell me that it's normal or ok, because I really don't think that'll make any difference." He sighed, looking at Sarah and spotting her awkward expression.

 

"Sorry, um, thank you for the heads up about the parental leave, I'll have a think about it over the next few days and get back to you, but um, yes, let's say definitely at least 6 weeks."

 

Sarah smiled and squeezed his shoulder, but left his office without a word.

 

 

\---------------

 

 

**27 weeks**

 

John moaned softly, biting his lip as Sherlock pushed deep inside him, the alpha curled behind him, fingers gripping John's hip firmly.

 

Sherlock's teeth were worrying the skin behind John's ear, making the omega squirm and press back against him, throwing his arm back, his hand squeezed Sherlock's ass and pulled him impossibly closer. He loved these moments with Sherlock, feeling like there was no one but them in the whole world, nothing but each other and the touch of skin on skin. He’d sometimes felt it during the heats that he and Sherlock had shared, but they were usually so hormone addled that some of the nuances were lost in the fog of it all. Times like this though, slow and almost silent, words unnecessary, John could get lost in them, wished they could just stay in the moment and forget everything else.

 

John’s head tipped back onto Sherlock's shoulder as his hips moved in small circles making the detective gasp out an obscene noise. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, kissing up John's exposed neck, his teeth tugging at his earlobe before dropping his head against John’s, his forehead against the doctor’s temple..

 

Sherlock kept his pace steady, making John pant and gasp. He purposefully avoided touching John's cock, the omega’s hips pushing forward every time Sherlock's hand got close to him.

 

"Oh fuck, Sherlock please," John tensed around his lover, dragging a deep growl from him. "Please," he gasped.

 

"Mmm, please what?" Sherlock's voice was more breathless than he'd admit to but John's was positively wrecked.

 

"Touch me, please," he moaned louder this time, so close to begging.

 

"I am, ahh, I am touching you," he whispered close to John's ear before biting at his neck again.

 

"Ugh, you're a twat," John sighed, grinning so wide Sherlock could feel it. "I could do it myself if you-" John broke off with a sharp intake of breath as Sherlock wrapped his hand around John's cock.

 

"I don't think so," Sherlock murmured, John's reaction to Sherlock's hand on him making Sherlock thrust harder inside him.

 

John bit his lip and squeezed around the alpha, grinning as Sherlock's rhythm faltered then resumed even faster, harder, deeper, chasing his own orgasm as he stroked John towards his.

 

In a flurry of hands and hips and hard kisses and teasing bites John gasped and grabbed at Sherlock as he came hard, feeling as though his brain was melting. The feeling of the omega coming around him threw Sherlock headlong into his own climax, pushing hard into John, spilling deep inside him, both of them feeling like the only people left in existence.

 

After a few still moments Sherlock ran his nose up John's neck, drinking in the man's scent as he panted to regain his breath. "Merry Christmas John."

 

John grinned again wrapping his hand round Sherlock's, pulling his arm round himself. "Mmm, very merry Christmas to you too Sher," his voice matched Sherlock’s own quiet breathless tone.

 

Sherlock squeezed John's hand. "You know I hate that." His words were ruined by the smile that was obvious even with John’s back still pressed against his front.

 

"Come on, it's Christmas." John grinned, shifting as Sherlock pulled out of him carefully. "Let's have a shower, we've got people coming round later.

 

"Ugh, do we have to have a party?" Sherlock held John tightly to him, half hoping he could convince John to stay in bed all day and maybe have take away from the good Chinese down the road.

 

"Shut up, we'll have a good time. You can complain, I can eat Mrs Hudson's mince pies and Greg will drink too much, then it'll really feel like Christmas.” John rolled out of Sherlock’s grasp. “See you in the shower.” He kissed Sherlock softly, before making him yelp with a pinch to his arse, whistling his way to the shower with a smirk on his face.

 

Hours later they found themselves exactly as John had predicted. Sherlock was complaining about the forced jollity of the festive period, Greg was on his 4th glass of mulled wine and John had already had 3 mince pies and was considering another, having already stashed a few away before putting them out with the rest of the party food.

 

Before he could decide about the mince pie he spotted Molly quietly tucked in a corner nibbling on a cheese straw.

 

"Hello Mols," he smiled warmly at her. "You've been avoiding me."

 

"What?" she spluttered, choking a little. "Don't be silly, I'm at your house." Her tone was overly bright.

 

John smiled to show he wasn't cross with her. "Well, yeah, that is true, but last week when I came to find Sherlock at the morgue I saw you turn around when you saw me coming, and the time before that I could have sworn I saw you duck into a storage cupboard..." he trailed off with a raise of his eyebrow.

 

"I don't- I mean you must've- I'm not-"

 

"Molly it's ok." He squeezed her arm gently. "Just tell me what's wrong, has Sherlock upset you or something?"

 

"What? No, no, it's not him it's..." she swallowed the end of her sentence and bit her lip.

 

"Ah, it's me. Please just tell me, if you make me guess a stupid thing I’ve done we could be here all night," he smiled trying to put her a little at ease.

 

"I just...I don't know what to say to you John and I don't want to upset you."

 

"Upset me?"

 

Her eyes flicked down to his belly.

 

"Oh...are you annoyed with me or something?"

 

"No! No, not at all. I don't- it's none of my business. I just don't know what to say. I made an idiot of myself, as usual, in front of Sherlock, he probably told you." She was blushing now, John could see it even in the festive low lights of the living room.

 

"Er, no, he said that he'd told you. I'm sorry Molly, was he rude to you?"

 

She shook her head. "No, and he didn't tell me, as such, I mean, I found out. I saw you coming out of Tesco a few weeks ago, and then Sherlock was at the morgue and I was just so excited that I congratulated him, you both really, and hugged him, and offered to knit." Molly's mortification was coming off her in waves. "And then I saw you at the hospital and I didn't know what to say, and I was worried I'd say the wrong thing, and...so I turned around. I'm so sorry John."

 

John smiled sadly, squeezing her arm again. "It's ok Molly, it’s difficult to know what to say sometimes. This whole thing is an exercise in awkward conversations and awkward situations."

 

Molly nodded. "I just...everyone else that I've known that's been pregnant, well, it's been a big exciting thing, and I've known what to say because they all loved hearing congratulations. But I’m your friend I shouldn’t have been avoiding you just because I feel awkward, I’m so sorry.”

 

She looked so forlorn that John couldn't help pull her into a hug. “Oh Mols, it’s ok, we’re still friends.”

 

She nodded against his shoulder.

 

“I bet you’ve not even had one of Mrs Hudson’s mince pies yet have you, all tucked away in the corner?” He smiled softly at her, trying to coax her out of her sad mood.

 

She shook her head.

 

“Come on, let’s get you one before I eat them all, how about some mulled wine too?” He guided her towards the drink, arm over her shoulder.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “And if you do want to talk John, I’m a good listener, maybe that’s the other side of not knowing what to say?”

 

John smiled at her. “Thank you Molly. I appreciate that. Now, wine.”

 

\--------------------------------

 

 

**28 weeks**

 

"Where have you been? I've been texting you," Sherlock asked as John reached the top of the stairs.

 

"I know, I heard," he grumbled going into the kitchen. "As did everyone else in my birthing class. I had to get off an exercise ball to turn my phone off," he directed a small glare at Sherlock who dropped his mug next to the one John had got out. "17 texts just because you're bored is a little excessive Sherlock."

 

"Why were you at a birthing class?" Sherlock asked, ignoring John's barb about the volume of messages.

 

John tilted his head waiting for the kettle to boil. "In case it's somehow escaped your notice, in approximately 12 weeks I'm going to give birth, and I'd quite like to know what I'm doing when it happens."

 

"Shouldn't I have come with you?"

 

"Why would you do that?" John asked pouring water into the mugs.

 

"Well it sounds like the kind of thing that couple do together."

 

"Yeah, normal couples."

 

"Are we not a normal couple?"

 

John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock stopping mid stir to look at the taller man.

 

"Alright fine, we're not, but I probably need to know what to do as well."

 

John turned and rested his hip against the counter. "Why? You planning on swapping with me and doing the pushing part for me?" An amused smiled played on his lips.

 

"No, but aren't there things I'll need to know how to do? On tv they're always brow mopping and hand squeezing and saying encouraging things?"

 

"Who are?" John asked, confusion all over his face.

 

"The partner, you know, the person in the room, 'you can do it' and all that." Sherlock was flustered, well as flustered as Sherlock seemed to get, which involved his ears going pink and his sentences becoming a bit fractured. John usually enjoyed this reaction to conversations about feelings and personal things.

 

For now though John was too stunned to take this in.

 

"You want to be there when I give birth?"

 

"Obviously," Sherlock replied, his tone gruff.

 

"No, not obviously, Sherlock." He crossed his arms over his bump. "Not obviously at all. You've not exactly wanted to be involved in all the medical stuff so far."

 

"This is different John. Did you really think I'd leave you to deal with it on your on? To give birth without anyone there?"

 

John fidgeted a little under Sherlock's gaze. "I hadn't really thought about it much but I didn't think you'd want to be there." He moved a little putting the teabags away, not looking at Sherlock.

 

"John..." Sherlock moved close behind him, a hand going to the small of his back. "I'm in this with you, I know most of the burden is on you, but I am here, and I would never even consider not being there with you at the birth. If I could do it for you, I would. I'm sorry if I've made you think I wouldn't be with you. That is if you want me there?" Sherlock looked as if the thought had just occurred to him.

 

"Of course I want you there Sherlock, I'm terrified about it." John bit his lip like he'd said more than he'd meant to.

 

Sherlock gently turned John to face him. "Why didn't you ask me about it then?"

 

"Because, I know you didn't want any of this, this was my choice," John still wouldn't look Sherlock in the eye.

 

"John," Sherlock sighed. "I am 50% responsible for this situation, and you're already dealing with more than 50% of the consequences."

 

"It's going to be horrible though. You'll hate it."

 

"Oh and you're going to be having a great time?"

 

John let out a shaky laugh. "Not according to the class leader today."

 

Sherlock smiled and pulled the omega close. "You'll have to fill me in on what I missed, I don’t want to fail the class."

 

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, burying his face in his neck and breathing in the scent that was uniquely Sherlock's, and was ever more comforting.

 

"Thank you."

 

Sherlock huffed and held John close to him, pressing a kiss to his sandy hair. "Idiot."

 

"That's not news," John mumbled against Sherlock's neck.

 

"Come on, tea's getting cold," Sherlock said giving John a squeeze.

 

\-------------

 

**30 weeks**

 

 **Can you bring ice home please?** \- 17.37 16/01/13

 

 **And a pineapple** \- 17.37 16/01/13

 

 **And some crisps** \- 17.38 16/01/13

 

 **And a can of coke** \- 17.38 16/01/13

 

 _What for? - SH_ 17.41 16/01/13

 

 **Experiment** \- 17.42 16/01/13

 

 _Are you taking the piss? - SH_ 17.44 16/01/13

 

 **No. Will you be back soon?** \- 17.47 16/01/13

 

 _Depends how long it takes me to find a pineapple - SH_ \- 17.48 16/01/13

 

 **Har har. See you soon** \- 17.49 16/01/13

 

Half an hour later Sherlock was back at the flat with the various items John had requested.

 

"What's the experiment then?" He asked laying everything out on the kitchen table as John wandered in from the living room.

 

John grabbed a couple of glasses on his way to the table, dropping them next to the ice. "It's an experiment," he said, filling the glasses with ice, "in whether we can avoid going to the hospital tonight."

 

Sherlock had been watching John fill one glass with water and one with coke, but his head snapped up to John's face at the mention of the hospital.

 

"Why would you need to go to hospital?"

 

"I might not," John said, taking the two glasses through to their bedroom.

 

Sherlock followed behind him, standing in the doorway as John sat on his side of the bed.

 

"But why might you?" He asked as John sipped at the iced water.

 

"I've not felt the baby move since about 3am, it's not normal for him or her to be that still for that long," he drank a bit more of the water as Sherlock looked on.

 

"And the random assortment of goods on our kitchen table helps, how?" Sherlock moved to sit next to John, seeing the concern on the omegas face.

 

"A glass of cold water and a lie down is supposed to help," he finished the water, leaving the glass on the bedside table, manoeuvring round so he was on his side, his feet over Sherlock's legs. "And if this doesn't work I'll give the coke a try, cold and caffeine and sugar should get the little thing moving around."

 

"And the pineapple and crisps?" Sherlock asked, rubbing gently at John's sock covered feet.

 

"Mmm, that's nice," he mumbled wiggling his toes. "Last time I had pineapple the baby hiccupped for 25 minutes, and right now I'd be happy just to feel that. And I just fancied some crisps."

 

"You're worried," Sherlock said gently, his thumbs rubbing into John's arches.

 

"Mmm," he nodded. "A bit. I'd got used to the movement, he or she's got their own little routine in there." John was softly stroking his belly clearly encouraging the baby to move around.

 

"Maybe he's just sleeping?"

 

"He?"

 

"Thought you'd prefer that to 'it' and 'he or she' is so long winded."

 

John smiled still stroking circles into his tummy. "He it is then."

 

"I suppose poking him's out of the question?"

 

"Ah, I've already tried that," John grinned. "Gently obviously, but no response yet."

 

Sherlock hmmed, feeling once again out of his depth. Of the myriad feelings this pregnancy inspired in him, the feeling of not having a clue what to do or say was probably the one he hated most.

 

He eased John's feet off his lap, and toed off his shoes, carefully crawling over John's legs to lie behind him, tucking his knees behind John's. He curled his arm over John's side, his hand slipping under John's, long fingers rubbing soothingly over the bump, he pressed gently here and there as he rubbed.

 

He pressed a kiss to John's neck. "How's the water helping?"

 

"Mmm, it's not so far," he said quietly, pressing back against the detective. Sherlock's hand was soothing his nerves even if it wasn't encouraging the baby to move around. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Come on baby, surely you must fancy a little wriggle around by now?"

 

They lay in silence for a few minutes, Sherlock slowly rubbing big circles over John's belly. "You would have liked the case today," he said softly, lips close to John's ear.

 

"Oh?" John cracked an eye open. "Was it gruesome?"

 

"Mmm, dismembered limbs all over the place."

 

John chuckled softly. "I don't know if I should be more concerned because it sounds like you enjoyed it or because I'm disappointed to have missed it."

 

"I mainly enjoyed Anderson trying to bag up a leg while trying not to vomit."

 

John's smile widened. "How he works in forensics and is so squeamish when it comes to touching body parts I don't know."

 

"Mmm, if only he'd be so squeamish about touching Donovan's body parts then they might be able to work together without screaming at each other."

 

"Another lover's tiff?"

 

"Something about him not leaving his wife still."

 

"I almost feel sorry for Donovan-"

 

Sherlock snorted and sat up.

 

"I said almost!" John smirked, shifting a little.

 

"She's an idiot, they both are." Sherlock held the icy glass of coke. "Time for this?"

 

"Mmm," John nodded, sitting up more. "I think so."

 

Sherlock handed him the glass, watching as John sipped at it.

 

"It'll take a little while to work," John murmured, stroking at his belly again. After a few moments he lay back down with a sigh, closing his eyes. Sherlock pressed close behind him, wrapping his fingers through John's.

 

"Talk to me some more," John asked softly. "Tell me about the case."

 

Sherlock pressed a kiss against John's neck, before carrying on with telling John about the case.

 

After about 20 minutes John sighed and rolled onto his back, looking up at Sherlock. "Still nothing."

 

Sherlock nodded. "Pineapple?"

 

John pushed himself up a little. "Yeah, and if that doesn't do the trick then I'll have to go to the hospital."

 

Two hours later found John on a hospital bed with some sensors strapped to his belly, while the doctor set up the ultrasound machine.

 

He glanced up at Sherlock, mainly to avoid looking at what the doctor was doing. "Thank you. For coming with me I mean, you didn't have to."

 

"Don't be an idiot, John," Sherlock said squeezing his hand.

 

John smiled and squeezed his hand.

 

"Right, let's have a look at what your little one's up to in there shall we?" The doctor spread some of the gel over John's bump. "Remind me, you don't want to know the sex of the baby do you?"

 

"No, thanks."

 

"Okey dokey, let's see what's going on."

 

John couldn't help squeezing Sherlock's hand as the nurse rubbed the wand over his stomach.

 

"A-ha," she said, leaning forward to flip a switch on the ultrasound machine. The sound of the heartbeat filled the room, and John let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding in, his hand still firmly in Sherlock's.

 

"So as you can hear we've got a nice strong heartbeat there. Let me just try and get a clearer look at a few things."

 

She manoeuvred the wand around, making a few notes as she did. After a few minutes she turned the screen around to them.

 

"Ok, so everything's looking fine in there. You can see the heart beating there, and here," she pointed at part of the screen, "you can see a strong swallowing motion-"

 

"Is the baby sucking it's thumb?" Sherlock interrupted.

 

"Yep, it is indeed," the doctor smiled as she moved the wand around and talked them through a few more checks. "Everything looks fine, heart rate is good, oxygen levels are good..."

 

"Can you see anything that'd explain them being so still?" John asked, finally tearing his gaze off the screen to look at the doctor.

 

"Nothing obvious no. So you tried cold water, and a sugary caffeinated drink?"

 

"Yeah, and no response."

 

"Well, I've got one more thing to try before we have to look into things a bit more..."

 

John glanced up at Sherlock whose eyes were glued to the screen as the doctor plugged in a little device that looked like an asthma inhaler.

 

"Ok, so this will make a little noise and a buzz, and hopefully that'll wake your little one up," the doctor smiled at them, guiding the wand around with one hand and positioning the buzzer with the other. The doctor clicked a button on the buzzer sending a little noise and vibration against John's tummy.

 

"Oh!" John gasped before letting out a wavering laugh. On screen the baby had visibly jumped.

 

"There you go!" The doctor grinned, moving the wand down slightly as the baby squirmed around.

 

John laughed again, one hand moving to cover his mouth, his shoulders dropping as the tension he'd been carrying all day slipped out of him.

 

"I think you've just got a bit of a lazy baby in there," the doctor smiled.

 

"Probably bored," Sherlock responded his eyes still on the screen.

 

John grinned up at him watching the alpha watch the baby on screen. _Their baby_. He realised Sherlock had never seen it before, and wondered briefly if seeing it with his own eyes would have the effect on Sherlock that it had on John all those weeks ago at the abortion clinic. John quickly shoved that thought out of his mind. Sherlock had always been very clear that he didn’t want this baby and nothing suggested otherwise. Sherlock, he thought, would only change his mind based on logic, not emotion and a fuzzy image on a screen.

 

The baby continued to move on the screen and Sherlock slid a hand down the side of John's belly feeling the movement.

 

"Extraordinary," he murmured.

 

"Shall I print you off a photo, since you're here anyway?" The doctor asked, having finished making her notes.

 

"Um, yeah, thanks," John managed, finally dragging his gaze off Sherlock's fascinated face.

 

When they left shortly after, John with a scan in his pocket and a squirmy baby in his belly, he couldn't get more than a few words out of Sherlock. Both of them fell into silence in the cab home, lost in their thoughts.

 

\----------------

 

**31 weeks**

 

When Sherlock got home John was sat in his chair, newspaper in hand.

 

"John...John," he said, waving his hand in front of the man’s face.

 

"Oh, sorry, um, what did you say?" John blinked.

 

"Nothing, which is sort of the point. What's happened?"

 

"What? Oh, nothing, why?"

 

"You may as well just tell me."

 

John sighed and folded the paper, dropping it next to the chair. "The social worker called, just to keep me 'in the loop'," he rolled his eyes. "They've, er, they've identified a family that they think'll be a good match for the baby."

 

"Oh?" Sherlock dropped to the chair opposite.

 

"Yeah, she didn't tell me a lot, but it's an alpha-omega couple, both male, good jobs, own a house, can't have a baby of their own, have been vetted and waiting for almost a year. Very excited apparently," John sighed, stretching his feet out in front of him.

 

"Well they sound...ideal."

 

"Mmm, yeah, they do don't they...textbook family material."

 

Sherlock nodded. "It's good to know that there's a family lined up. Reassuring."

 

John nodded. "Yeah, yeah it is." He pushed himself up out of the chair. "Will you go and get some sandwiches for lunch?"

 

Sherlock followed him into the hallway. "John, we can talk about this-"

 

"Leave it Sherlock. Please. For now." He pulled a fiver out of his coat pocket. "Cheese for me please."

 

Sherlock nodded and took the note, jogging down the stairs and out the door. As soon as the door shut John pulled out his phone and dialled a rarely used number.

 

_"John, so nice to hear from you."_

 

"I don't have time to chat, I just want to know if they're legit, Mycroft."

 

 _"From everything I've seen they seem perfect."_ John appreciated that Mycroft didn't pretend he didn't know what John was talking about. " _Bonded for 7 years. Good careers, the omega is planning to take a year off when they get the baby. They have good links with their extended families, the alpha's family live nearby. They own a mid to large house near good schools in an area with low crime rates and lots of green, open spaces. They don't seem to have ever had any trouble with the law and are financially secure. They have-"_

 

"Right. It seems you really have been...thorough. Thank you."

 

_"You're welcome John. If you need anything else-"_

 

"Thanks," John managed before he hung up.

 

As the dial tone rang in his ear John sighed, his heart pounding, his insides feeling like they were filled with ice.

 

' _Perfect_ ' Mycroft had said. And they really did sound it. They sounded like the opposite of him and Sherlock. Stable jobs, close to their families. Big house in a safe neighbourhood, bonded for years. Literally the opposite of what Sherlock and John could offer.

 

John slid his phone into his pocket, rubbing his eyes. They were _perfect_ , he should be thrilled. They'd offer this baby everything he wanted it to have, everything he and Sherlock couldn't. The baby probably wouldn't ever see a crime scene, wouldn't open the fridge to find a foot in the place that the orange juice should be. They'd probably got a room all decorated and set up as a nursery rather than a spare room half full of boxes and science equipment.

 

John dropped his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. He should be thrilled.

 

As he heard the door open he made his way back into the living room as fast as his expanding bump would let him, easing into his chair as Sherlock came in, handing the bag with his sandwich in to John.

 

"Thanks." John managed a weak smile as he took the bag. His appetite was long gone for now though; he felt like he'd swallowed a rock. "I'm er, my back's a bit sore again actually so I might go for a lie down before I eat," he pushed himself out of the chair, his lunch abandoned on the table.

 

Sherlock watched him go, not knowing what he should be doing. Again.

 

Eventually he followed after him, finding John curled up on the bed. Pushing his shoes off Sherlock climbed in after him, wrapping around him, his alpha instincts to protect coming to the forefront of his brain. "John," he said quietly, holding the omega tightly.

 

Before he could say anything else John had rolled over and buried his face against Sherlock's chest, tears springing unbidden from his eyes. He grasped at Sherlock's shirt holding him close as he cried. Sherlock pulled John closer, holding onto him.

 

He didn't know what to say, which seemed to have become standard for the last little while but he thought that maybe this time he didn't know what to say because there wasn't anything _to_ say. Instead he just held onto John and let him cry, hoping his actions put across what he didn't have the words to say; hoping they showed that he understood John’s heartbreak, understood his sorrow, even just a little bit.

 

\----------------------

 

  
**32 weeks**

 

"So in this week’s class we're going to focus on our birth plans!" The class leader handed out a print out to each couple, a massive smile on her face, her tone exceedingly chipper. "Some of you might have already worked on these with your midwife, but that's ok, it's great to have that information firmly in your mind."

 

"She's absurdly cheerful," Sherlock whispered as the woman continued talking.

 

"Probably because she doesn't have to actually do what she's teaching us about," John whispered back

 

"And never has," Sherlock said quietly. "Probably due to the fact that she can't commit, as proven by the fact that she's currently shagging two different bonded alphas, neither of which are bonded to her."

 

"No?!" John grinned, looking at the mousy omega entirely differently.

 

"Yep, she-"

 

"All ok at the back there?"

 

"Oh, um yes, thanks, just a disagreement," John managed, holding his grin in.

 

"Ah, well alphas remember, it's good to talk about what you'd like from the birth experience but remember it's your omega who is going to be doing all the work!"

 

She carried on with her chipper instructions about filling in the birth plan, Sherlock smirking at John.

 

"Right," John said, grabbing a pen. "Let's plan something that's essentially unplannable."

 

He filled in some of the basic bits of the plan and some of the bits that he knew he wanted already.

 

"You've ticked the 'drug free labour' box," Sherlock said, helpfully pointing at it.

 

"Yep," John nodded crossing out the home birth and water birth options.

 

"Really?" Sherlock asked, his brows furrowed. "Surely as painless as possible would be the preferable option?"

 

"Hmm, for some people but...well they all have side effects for one thing, either for me or the baby. But also, I need to experience it, I don't want to be drugged and half out of it. I need...I need to feel it. I know that probably doesn't make much sense and I can't explain it a lot better, but...I just need to be fully present and there. At least that's how I feel now, who knows maybe in 8 weeks I'll be begging for all the drugs they can offer," he smiled weakly at the alpha.

 

Sherlock nodded, pressing his leg close to John's for a moment. "I think I understand a bit, at least about feeling like you're not really in a situation when you're under the influence of narcotics."

 

John smiled and squeezed his knee.

 

"Yeah...oh look, later there's questions about the placenta, brilliant!" John grinned as Sherlock grimaced, both of them preferring John's weak subject change instead of the serious conversation they'd begun.

 

They were doing ok filling in the form, Sherlock chipping in helpful comments now and then - 'why would anyone allow a trainee in the room?' - until they started to get to the questions about after the birth.

 

_Q. 10_

_Immediately after the birth you can have your baby lifted straight onto you before the cord is cut so that you can be close to each other immediately. If you prefer, you can ask the midwife to wipe your baby and wrap him or her in a blanket first._

 

_\- I would like my baby delivered straight onto my tummy_

_\- I would like my baby cleaned first before being given to me_

 

"I er....hmm, I don't know for this one..." He shifted in his seat, stroking his bump absently. "I think I'd like it, I mean, I know you probably think I shouldn't..."

 

"I don't really have an opinion either way John, other than that it is a very intimate thing, but it's not my choice to make."

 

John nodded. "I just...partly I want it for the baby, he'll be confused and I think it'll be comforting for him to be close to me right away like that. And I sort of want it for myself too, I won’t get many moments with him when he’s not living inside me and this seems like an important one. Is that really selfish?"

 

Sherlock smiled softly at his lover, once again wishing that somehow he could take John's place in this situation. "It’s not selfish."

 

John smiled a bit then looked back down at the paper. He circled bottle feeding instead of breast feeding without comment. A close moment straight after the birth was one thing, feeding was a different level of intimacy entirely.

 

John added some notes at the end explaining that the baby was being adopted so wouldn’t be staying in the room with John if there was an overnight stay and would be under the care of a social worker. John rubbed a hand over his face. “I hope it’s quick.”

 

“The labour?”

 

“No,” John sighed. “No, I hope it’s quick between having him and him going to the new family. I don’t want him to be on his own for too long, I don’t want him to be frightened.”

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

**33 weeks**

 

Sherlock leaned against the railings on the side of the road, watching as the suspect was bundled into the back of a police car. It'd taken longer than he would have liked to track this one down, but they'd got him eventually.

 

"Good work," Lestrade said, leaning against the railings next to Sherlock.

 

"Hmm," Sherlock murmured not really paying attention to him.

 

They watched quietly as the police car drove off, Sherlock not really seeing despite looking off in that direction.

 

"How, um, how are things at home?" Lestrade asked gently.

 

"What?" Sherlock looked at Lestrade out of the corner of his eye.

 

"I just wondered how things are? When I saw John last week he said that an adoptive family's been found..." he trailed off, watching the detective carefully.

 

"And?"

 

"And I wondered if you're ok."

 

"Why wouldn't I be?"

 

"Sherlock," Greg turned and rested his hip against the railings, facing Sherlock's profile.

 

"I'm fine. John...John isn't himself."

 

"How do you mean?"

 

"He's just not. He's...quiet, and he's thinking all the time. And he's cleaning."

 

"Cleaning?"

 

"Mmm, keeps moving everything around. I can’t find a fucking thing."

 

Greg smiled at the confusion in Sherlock's voice. He could only imagine Sherlock's bafflement at this whole situation. "He's nesting Sherlock."

 

"What? Why would he do that?"

 

"Even though his brain knows that you're not going to be bringing the baby home with you, his hormones are telling him to get ready for it."

 

Sherlock scoffed. "Hormones."

 

"You can roll your eyes and scoff about hormones all you like Sherlock, but you're no more devoid of them than the rest of us. It's those hormones that got you and John into this situation."

 

"I know that," the taller man snapped.

 

"Well then act like you do. Of course John's acting funny, he's in a situation that he's never been in before, his body's being taken over by hormones that must be making him feel like a different person, not to mention having a tiny person growing inside him, a tiny person that he's got to say goodbye to in 6 and a bit weeks. Let him be a bit weird and let him nest or whatever else he needs to do."

 

"I am trying Lestrade, I don't understand how he's feeling but I'm trying to react less...less like myself."

 

"I know, and so does John, and I know this has been hard for you too, but I reckon this is the really hard bit now Sherlock." Lestrade watched him carefully. He'd known Sherlock for a long time, had seen him at his best and his worst, and for John's sake he wanted to get an idea of where on that scale Sherlock was.

 

Sherlock looked out over the city, watching the flow of the river and the glimmer of street lights. "I know."

 

"Are _you_ going to be ok?"

 

Sherlock nodded again. "Yes."

 

"Sure?"

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Goodnight Lestrade," he said, pushing away from the railing.

  
  
\--------------------------------------------------  


**34 weeks**

 

Sherlock poked the bag, fingers running through a few of the items at the top of the bag. “Where are you going?” He asked as John came back into the living room holding some socks.

 

“Hmm?” He bumped Sherlock out of the way with his hip.

 

“The bag.”

 

“Oh, no where, it’s the overnight one for the hospital. Remember, we talked about it at the birthing class?” John tucked a wash bag down into the overnight bag.

 

“Bit early isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, probably, better to have it all together now and be prepared though.” John disappeared back into their bedroom for something and came back to find Sherlock poking around in a smaller bag that had been next to the overnight bag.

 

“What’s this one?”

 

John rolled his eyes before trying to tug the small bag out of Sherlock’s hands. The detective, of course, kept hold of it.

 

“You already know what it is, I don’t know why you even bother asking.”

 

“Fine, I’ll ask a different question then. Why do you have a bag packed for the baby?”

 

John rolled his eyes dropping his hold on the bag. “Well I’m not going to send it out into the world naked am I?”

 

Sherlock rummaged in the bag. “There’s more than one set of clothes in here, where have they come from?”

 

“Where do you think Sherlock, I bought them. And they’re just a few babygrows. He’ll need changing while he’s in hospital, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to provide a few bits.” John pulled the bag from Sherlock’s hands, flattening out the contents where Sherlock had disturbed them with his rummaging, before holding it protectively.

 

“He’s not ours to provide for!” Sherlock said with a wave of his hands.

 

“I disagree, until he’s with his new family-”

 

“You’re changing your mind,” Sherlock interrupted, moving closer to John and the little bag he was fiddling with.

 

“What? Sherlock, for god’s sake, I’m not- if I was changing my mind I wouldn’t be packing a bag to leave him with would I?” He dropped the bag onto the table.

 

Sherlock watched him carefully but said nothing.

 

“I can’t just give birth and leave him like that, and it’s not the hospital’s job to provide for him!”

 

“No, it’s his family’s job!”

 

“And they will, just not right away because they won’t be there because none of us know when I’m going to give birth so who knows how long it’ll take them to get to the hospital!”

 

Sherlock sighed and sat down. “I just think it’s...risky.”

 

“What, like buying a multipack of babygrows is going to change everything?” John rubbed his eyes. “I know you don’t understand, but...I need to do this, need to feel like I’m not totally abandoning him.”

 

Sherlock eventually nodded.

 

John stood up and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s curls. “Could you put them both in the hall downstairs?”

 

Sherlock took the bags downstairs without a word.

  
  
\-----------------------------------

 

 

**35 weeks**

 

“Ooh, you must be almost due now!”

 

John looked up from where he was rummaging for his debit card in wallet. “Oh, um, still 5 weeks to go.”  Was it really that soon, he thought.

 

“Oh that’s nothing,” the kindly old omega said. “It’ll go in no time.”

 

John smiled weakly, finding his card and putting it into the machine.

 

“Have you got any names picked?” She ignored his card in the machine, still smiling sweetly at him.

 

“What? Oh, no, no names.”

 

“Aww, well I guess you’ll need to wait and meet- oh, do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

 

John shifted slightly, his back was sore, he just wanted to buy something for dinner and then go home and lie on the sofa. “Um no, no I don’t.”

 

“Oooh, it’s lovely to have a surprise! What would you like? Boy or girl, alpha, omega or beta?”

 

“I, er, I don’t mind. Am I able to pay?” He said, gesturing at the machine.

 

“Oh, silly me! Of course, of course, stood here gabbing while you’re waiting to pay. I expect your alpha will be wondering where you are, they get so possessive during pregnancy don’t they?” She tapped at the till before handing John his bags.

 

“Thanks,” John said with a small smile, leaving the shop as fast as he could.

 

 _5 weeks left._ John and Sherlock had been so busy for the last few weeks he’d not even realised he was down to so little time.

 

He ducked into the gap between two shops, taking a deep breath. _5 weeks. 35 days_.

 

It wasn’t long enough, he sighed, not enough at all.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

 

**37 weeks**

 

John forced himself to smile as he went into the staff room. A few of his colleagues who he was closest to were gathered around a table.

 

“Is this the bit where I act surprised to see you here?” He smirked as he dropped down into a chair. He was too achy to stand for long lately so was happy for any excuse to sit down.

 

“Yes,” Sarah nodded, grinning at him. “That’s exactly it. The same way that you’ll be surprised by these-” she pulled out a box of John’s favourite biscuits, “-and these.” She held up two envelopes before dropping all three things onto the table in front of him.

 

“We, er, we knew you wouldn’t want a fuss, but we couldn’t let you just leave without a goodbye.” Chris, one of his favourite nurses, added, coming closer.

 

John smiled at them. “Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you. Shall I open these now?” He gestured at the cards.

 

“Yeah, you open those and I’ll open the biscuits,” Chris added, tearing the packet open.

 

John opened the cards while the biscuits were passed around. He read the messages which ranged from a basic ‘All the best’ to some really sweet ones about how much they’d miss him and were already looking forward to seeing him back. All of them carefully avoided any mention of the baby.

 

“Thanks guys, that’s very nice of you.” He pulled the other card open and pulled out an Amazon gift card.

 

“Sherlock can help you use it if online shopping’s a bit hard for you,” Chris grinned at him.

 

“Hey! I can shop online, thank you, he’d only use it if I let him near it anyway, and I’m guessing you didn’t buy it for it to be used on books about unsolved murders or chemical compounds.”

 

“Um, no,” Sarah laughed along with her colleagues.

 

“So what have you got planned for the next few weeks?” Chris asked, stretching his feet out,

 

“Oh I don’t know, thought maybe I’d go skydiving,” John rolled his eyes and threw a bit of screwed up paper at him making everyone else laugh. “I think I’ll probably just be sleeping, and eating, and maybe spending a few weeks reading, as well as enjoying making Sherlock run about after me.”

 

“You should definitely do that, have you sent him out at 3am to buy you gherkins or something?” Chris smiled.

 

John laughed. “No, not yet, still a few weeks to give that a go though.”

 

After a few minutes John stretched and stood up, achy again.

 

“Right, well I’m going to head off. Thank you for these,” he said with a wave of the cards. And I’ll see you all soon, I’m sure I’ll be bored after...after, so yeah, remember me for lunch and stuff. We’ll watch a game yeah?” He directed at Chris.

 

The nurse nodded, the easy smile having drifted off his face. “Sounds like a plan, mate.” He moved to hug John. “All the best, yeah?”

 

He squeezed Chris gently. “Thank you.”

 

The couple of other people gave John a hug and drifted out. Leaving just John and Sarah in the room.

 

Sarah wrapped her arms around John for a few minutes before pulling back and gripping him by the upper arms.

 

“You going to be ok?”

 

John nodded, biting his lip.

 

“You know you can call me anytime, ok? Here, at home, in the middle of the night, whenever. And you’re going to come and see me soon, right?”

 

John nodded again. “Thank you.”

 

“And don’t do that stupid polite thing of saying ‘Yes, thank you, that sounds nice.’ and then not come to see me.”

 

“I won’t,” he said, hugging her again.

 

“You’re going to be fine, remember that ok?”

 

“Thank you, really. I’ll see you soon, and I’ll be back here before you’ve had chance to miss me.”

 

He grabbed the bits that he was taking home and headed to the door. “And tell that new locum not to get too comfortable in my office, yeah?”

 

Sarah smiled and waved him off and John pretended not to notice the teary look in her eyes.

 

Three weeks of reading, sleeping and eating should be enough to take his mind off what was to come.

 

\---------------------------

 

**38 weeks**

 

“John, you’re looking really well mate, really good,” Greg smiled at him, carrying a drink over to him.

 

John laughed. “Yeah right, I look like a whale! Thanks for the drink,” he said, taking his glass as Greg sat down opposite him. The cafe was busy but they’d managed to get a table, John supposed being very obviously almost 9 months pregnant had some benefits. Not many, but some.

 

“No worries, so how are things? You do look about ready to pop.”

 

“I’ve been alright, it’s been good to be off work actually. I’ve been sore, and my back hurts all the time, so it’s been good to be able to stay in bed, or get in the bath or make Sherlock make tea...that doesn’t really help with the pain but I enjoy it anyway,” he grinned at Greg.

 

Greg laughed. “Sounds like a pretty good use of your time.”

 

“Yeah, it’s that and daytime TV with Mrs Hudson at the moment. Oh, but I did watch the rugby the other day, can you believe that kind of loss? That had to hurt!” His team had beaten Greg’s and John was massively enjoying rubbing it in.

 

Mid taunt the couple at the next table, shuffled out of the small gap between the two tables.

 

“-honestly Greg, I think you should just accept- Oh for fuck’s sake,” he looked around at the now empty table before looking.

 

“What’s up?” Greg asked.

 

“I think they knocked a drink over getting out, my shoe’s wet now,” John was still looking around at what had spilled. “I can’t even reach my fucking feet at the moment.”

 

“Er...I don’t think they did spill anything,” Greg looked round, pointing at the couple of still right way up cups.

 

“Well then what the hell is all over...my shoes,” John trailed off, looking under the table again. “Oh…”

 

“Oh? What oh?” Greg’s brow was pulled low in confusion.

 

“Um, drink up,” John said, finishing his own drink.

 

“What, why?”  

  
“Oh, um, nothing really, just...I think my water have broken, that’s all.”


	5. When it was dark I called and you came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's feeling a lot more real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> First, thank you so very much for all the kudos and comments. The response has just been amazing and makes my day every time. I know I say that every time but it really does :-D
> 
> Read the tags! 
> 
> As usual, I own nothing and no one, everyone belongs to their creators.I'm posting this late at night and finding the formatting on here as difficult as usual (no idea what I'm doing wrong!) so if you spot anything odd let me know.
> 
> Kudos, comments and ConCrit all very welcome! 
> 
> Hopefully I'll have some writing time soon so it shouldn't be too long until the next update.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it :-) 
> 
>  
> 
> \----------------------------

_When it was dark I called and you came_  
 _When it was dark I saw shapes_  
 _When I see stars I feel in your hand,  
_ _And I see stars and I reel, again_

_Baby Birch - Joanna Newsom_

\---------------------------------

**Week 38 + 2 days**

**14.30**

"You're what?! Don't you normally get some kind of warning before that happens?!" Greg had finally managed to splutter as John calmly finished his drink.

"Well, yeah, I er, I thought they were just practice contractions, but...obviously not."

Greg gaped at him. "You're a doctor, aren't you meant to know the difference?!"

"I've never been pregnant before have I? Turns out practice contractions and real contractions feel pretty similar." John pulled on his parka, grateful it was long enough to cover his now distinctly damp bottom, even if it didn't zip up.

"Right. Fuck. Ok, what now? Hospital?"

John shook his head. "Nah, I've got ages yet, can you take me back to the flat?"

"Of course mate, of course." Greg pulled on his own coat.

"Oh, one more thing..."

"Anything."

"Will you tell the woman that she'll want to mop up?" he asked, nodding toward the till.

Greg flushed pink but nodded.

 

Not long after they were back at Baker St and John's overnight bag was in Greg’s car, just waiting for John to be ready to go. John wanted a cup of tea and some dry trousers before he went anywhere, and Greg thought that seemed reasonable enough.

 

******16.30** ** **

Two hours later Greg was pacing the flat while John read the paper, his hands occasionally clenching the pages while his face twisted in pain.

Greg dropped into Sherlock's chair facing John.

"John, seriously, is it not time for the hospital yet? And where the fuck is Sherlock?"

John shook his head breathing through the pain. "Hmm, not yet, no. And I've not told him so he's probably still doing whatever he's off doing today."

"John! Oh for fucks sake." Greg pulled out his phone and tapped out a message telling Sherlock to call him asap. "Why hadn't you told him?"

"I'm not ready, it's meant to be two more weeks."

Greg sighed rubbing a hand over his face. "It'll be fine John, it's only a couple of weeks, you and the baby will be fine, it's obviously ready to get here now..."

John shook his head biting his bottom lip. "I know that, I just...I'm meant to have two more weeks with him before I have to let him go."

Greg's heart clenched at the broken tone in John's voice and the detective had to take a deep breath to stop his own voice from shaking.

"I'm so sorry John, I don't know what to say, but...I don’t think you've got much choice about this. It's happening and ignoring it won't change anything." He watched carefully as John took a deep steadying breath. The omega nodded and opened his eyes.

"You're right. We still don't need to go yet though, they're still about 8 minutes apart, don't need to go in til 5 minutes." John smiled weakly at him. "Did Sherlock reply yet?"

Greg shook his head. "Not yet, I'll try calling him."

****

******18.30** ** **

Another two hours later and Greg was almost tearing his hair out. John's contractions were intensifying, leaving the omega clenching at the arms of his chair, or the back of the sofa, or the edge of the kitchen counters, while he panted and groaned. When Greg couldn't stand it anymore he'd started following John around, rubbing his back and shoulders when the man tensed up, his alpha instincts making him need to help an omega in pain.

They were both frantically calling and texting Sherlock now but with no success.

As John gripped the edge of the kitchen counter panting through another contraction Greg pulled out his phone and after a few taps held it to his ear.

"John's in labour-...Yeah, yeah-...I'm taking him to the hospital any minute now, but we can't get hold of Sherlock...Right, ok, yeah...Thank you."

He turned back to John rubbing his back softly. "John, I think we should go to the hospital now, they're 6 minutes apart now, an extra minute won’t be a problem I’m sure."

John shook his head, taking a few deep breaths as his contraction eased. "We can't, Sherlock's not here yet, where is he?" John was embarrassed at the needy tone of his voice, but everything felt so alien to anything he'd experienced before.

"I don't know John, but I've got all kinds of people looking for him, so we're going to go to the hospital, I've let everyone know to send him there, ok?" Greg kept his tone as calm as possible even though he was twisted with panic inside. He tried focus to hold the panic off, one thing at a time. Firstly, getting John to the hospital.

"Come on," he said softly, guiding John away from the kitchen. "Let's go yeah?"

John nodded, breathing deeply again. "Ok."

Greg led him to the stairs, guiding him gently step by step. When they were halfway down the front door opened and Mrs Hudson ambled in.

"Oh!" She gasped, surprised by the two men on the stairs. "What-"

"John's in labour so we're going to the hospital," Greg blurted out, still helping John down the remaining steps.

Mrs Hudson held the door open mouth agape.

"And if Sherlock comes back, tell him to get his arse to the hospital _right_ away!" Greg shouted as he guided John out of the door.

 

******19.00** ** **

30 minutes later John had been admitted to the birthing ward of the hospital. He was settled in a room and his contractions were now coming about 5 minutes apart and had been examined by a midwife who'd declared him 5cm dilated and cheerfully told him he was halfway there so to keep moving about and try to relax.

John rolled his eyes as she left the room, easing off the bed and walking around slowly, rubbing at his tense belly. "Relax? Yeah I'll just kick back and read a book."

Greg laughed weakly. John eased himself down onto a large inflatable exercise ball, rocking slightly on it. Greg moved behind him, sitting within arm’s reach, worried that John was going to fall off it.

 

******19.30** ** **

Eventually an increasingly quiet John moved onto his knees, arms resting on the ball his head dropping to his arms as he panted through the contractions. He moaned deeply, his breathing fast.

"Where's Sherlock?" He was on the edge of tears, his eyes glossy. "I can't do this without him here."

Greg rubbed the omega's back gently as the contraction began to wane. John gradually eased back onto his heels, looking up at Greg.

"I don't know, John, we're looking-"

Greg was interrupted by a knock at the door, John looking up eagerly as the door opened.

"Oh, wrong Holmes," he complained, dropping his head to the ball again.

Mycroft quickly averted his gaze from the pained omega to the tired detective next to him. "We found him; he's on his way in."

"Thank fuck," Greg sighed in relief as another contraction ripped through John, Mycroft startling at the deep groan that was dragged from John's throat. He watched in confusion as Greg rubbed at John's shoulders, feeling awkward but not able to leave. After a couple of tense minutes John dropped back on his heels again, panting.

"I need some ice please," he croaked.

"Of course," Mycroft replied, quickly ducking out of the room. When he returned John was at the end of another contraction, panting and sweat covered from the exertion. Mycroft had never witnessed anything quite like it, John's body seemed entirely overcome by his biological instincts, entirely without control over what was happening to him, but seeming to have handed himself over to it.

Mycroft and Greg both averted their eyes as a midwife quickly examined John declaring him 7 cms dilated and letting him know that there'd be a little while to go before he reached the next stage.

John breathed through his next few contractions the way they'd been taught at the birthing class. In between them he closed his eyes and dropped his head to his arms, sighing into the darkness. His head was swimming with the pain from the contractions, his whole body feeling tight and tense.

His mind flitted from thought to thought, mostly of Sherlock. He remembered their first kiss, first touch, first heat; remembered Sherlock's face open and scared and so vulnerable as he knotted inside John for the first time; remembered Sherlock's whispered words and soft touches; he remembered meeting Sherlock, all those years ago in the hospital he was now giving birth to their child in.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, shapes swimming in the darkness behind his eyes as his thoughts turned into a litany of _SherlockSherlockSherlock_ , long held back tears escaping as another contraction rushed through him.

 

******20.00** ** **

As it was nearing its end, the door to the room swung open and John rolled his head to one side on his arms seeing Sherlock stride into the room.

"Get out," he growled to Mycroft and Greg who needed little encouragement to do just that.

"Sherlock?" John gasped.

Sherlock pulled off his jacket and shoved his shirt sleeves up as he dropped to his knees facing John, next to the exercise ball the omega was pressed against. He rubbed his hands down John's tense arms to his shoulders, digging his thumbs in firmly. "I'm here, I'm here."

John managed to unwrap his arms from around the ball, shifting slightly to throw them around Sherlock's neck, the alpha moving closer, John's firm bump pressing against him as John's damp face pressed to his neck. John dragged in a deep breath of Sherlock's scent before turning his head fractionally.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He croaked out, sighing softly as Sherlock massaged firmly at his site back.

"I'm sorry, John, I'm so sorry. I was in a lab across town, apparently without phone reception down there," he was clearly annoyed with himself.

"You're here now," John mumbled, holding him close, eyes pressing shut again.

Before Sherlock could respond John gasped and tightened his hold, groaning as his body was wracked with another contraction.

"Oh fuck," he panted when it finally eased, dropping slightly into Sherlock's hold.

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's sweaty hair. "You're doing so well, so well John."

John responded by pressing his face closer to Sherlock's neck, losing himself in the feel of the alpha wrapped around him. He was usually proud of his control over his omega instincts, but at that moment he was happy to take whatever comfort he could find.

 

******20.20** ** **

Sherlock barely contained himself when a midwife came in to examine John, but focused on holding the omega tightly as he was checked over.

They stayed close, John occasionally getting up to walk around. Every time a midwife checked him over they said he was making good progress, he and the baby both still doing well, just to give it time. Sherlock bit his tongue every time, sure that John wouldn’t appreciate him telling the nurses his thoughts about that statement.

 

******22.30******  
John was exhausted. He leaned his against Sherlock again, pressing a soft kiss to the alpha’s neck.

“Are you ok?” John mumbled

Sherlock rolled his eyes, stroking a hand through John’s damp hair. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are _you_ ok? Do you want any pain relief?”

John shook his head against Sherlock’s neck. “No, I need to feel it.” He sighed against Sherlock. His thoughts were swimming again. “Do you remember that time we went to Scotland?”

It had been almost a year and a half ago. They’d gone to Edinburgh for a case and then on what John referred to as a heat holiday. Sherlock hated that term, rolled his eyes every time John had said it but had agreed to it, staying in a tiny remote cottage. They’d spent 4 days wrapped up in each other, entirely lost in the heat. It had been easy to feel like there was no one else in the world. Sherlock thought he’d maybe never been happier than then.

“Yes,” Sherlock murmured, his voice gravelly in John’s ear.

“That’s when I realised I was in love with you.” John pressed his face harder against Sherlock; his hand’s digging into the detective’s back as another contraction charged through him.

Sherlock held tightly to John, stunned by the man’s admission. They’d never said that four letter word to each other. Sherlock didn’t do feelings. John did though. John was emotional and caring and thoughtful and he’d kept the fact that he was in love with Sherlock to himself for so long because he knew Sherlock wouldn’t know what to do with being presented with the facts like that, even though the fact of it had been pretty obvious in John’s behaviour.

John’s face was wet against Sherlock’s shoulder. “ _So_ in love with you,” he managed to gasp out quietly. His head was swimming, the pain sending him further and further away from himself.

Sherlock held on to him tightly not knowing what to say and just holding the omega close to him, trying to comfort his exhausted body even if he couldn’t reach his mind.

 

******23.00** ** **

"Ok John, you're almost 10 cms dilated now, are you feeling any urges to push yet?"

John shook his head softly, leaning over the exercise ball again. "No, not- not yet."

Sherlock rubbed his neck gently, feeling tremors running through his exhausted body.

"Ok, well I think that'll be starting really soon so I think we should get you into a position that you'll feel comfortable giving birth in. Did you want to stay like this, do you want to be up on the bed?"

"I think on my side, in bed, please," he gasped out.

"Great, sounds ideal, let's get you up then."

Sherlock and the nurse helped John up on the bed onto his side, contractions still pulling through him. Sherlock rubbed his back soothingly, speaking soft words of encouragement into the exhausted omega’s ear.

Sherlock had thought that all this would be too much for him. That seeing John in pain and reduced to instincts would be too hard and different and confusing for him to know what to do with. And it was hard seeing John in so much pain, and it was confusing seeing him not be himself, and although he didn't really know what to do to help, it seemed his instincts had kicked in too, and supporting John seemed to be enough.

 

******23.30** ** **

John shook and clenched and moaned through half an hour of more contractions. He held onto Sherlock for dear life begging him not to leave at one point, only quieting when Sherlock promised he was going nowhere.

The midwife was with them constantly now, keeping an eye on John and the baby's vitals.

John let out a deep moan, grabbing Sherlock's hand tightly. "I need to push," he managed to pant out between gritted teeth.

"Ok John, try not to, just for a moment, just while I quickly check you over, ok?"

John nodded as the midwife examined him, trying to breathe deeply.

"Alright, it looks like we're about ready to go. Will you come round this side and support his leg?" she directed the last part at Sherlock who pressed a quick kiss to John's hair before moving round to the other side of the bed, facing John.

"I can't do this," John gasped out, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You can, John, you can. You've done so well already, so well. It's just this last bit." Sherlock pressed a kiss to his face, keeping close for a moment until John eventually nodded.

"Right then, when you feel the next urge to push John go with it, ok? Just take a deep breath and bear down into it. But if I ask you to stop pushing then take some short shallow breaths and try not to push ok?"

John nodded weakly.

 

******Midnight** ** **

Soon enough John had been pushing and panting for 20 minutes. He dropped his head onto the pillow, sweat dripping from him.

"I can't do it," he cried, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You're doing great," the midwife reassured him. "The baby is much lower; it won't be much longer I'm sure."

John sobbed softly, Sherlock's heart clenching at John's cries. "John, you're doing so well, so well," he stroked John's damp hair gently, speaking softly to him. "You're so strong and so brave, you can do this...look at everything you've done so far."

John took a deep breath and met Sherlock's eyes.

"You can do this, and you know you can. Right?"

John nodded weakly as Sherlock kissed him gently.

"Ok John, when you feel like you need to push again, take a nice deep breath and push really hard and keep going until I tell you to stop, right?" The midwife encouraged.

****

******12.30am** ** **

John felt like he was tearing apart. His pushes had been as strong as he could make them, and Sherlock probably has a couple of broken fingers from how hard John had squeezed his hand.

"John, I can see the baby's head, don't push for a minute ok? I know it hurts but that'll ease off in a minute, just try and take a deep breath, focus on relaxing your muscles."

John wanted to shout at the midwife and demand she tell him how the fuck he was supposed to relax his muscles while trying to push a baby out of him, but he was too exhausted to form the words. Instead he breathed deeply like Sherlock reminded him to and tried to focus.

"You're doing really well John. I think two more big pushes and your baby will be here."

John managed to nod, the intense feeling of the baby crowning had started to ease off and he could feel the next contraction building.

"Ok, nice big push, keep going, keep going, fantastic! Stop pushing now, take some big breaths, your baby's almost here." The midwife ran a finger around the baby's neck checking the cord wasn't wrapped around it. "You're doing fantastically; one more big push and the baby'll be out."

He tried to focus, tried to gather any bit of will he had left, and when the next contraction came, he pushed with everything he had feeling a sudden slide and tug.

 

******12.45am** ** **

"Well done John! And hello baby!"

John looked down to see the midwife rubbing the baby gently until it let out a sharp cry. John let out a sob of relief as the baby cried and squirmed, barely noticing Sherlock helping him move slightly onto his back. As soon as he lay back the slick, squirmy baby was placed on his tummy, his arms moving almost without thought to wrap the baby up and pull it close to him.

"Is he ok?" John managed to croak, his eyes glued to the purple bundle in his arms.

"He's a she," the midwife grinned, rubbing gently at the baby to dry her off before dropping a blanket over the baby's back. "And she's perfect so far. We'll want to cut the cord in a moment and then we'll need to check her over but you can have a few minutes."

John barely heard what the midwife was saying, his eyes were glued to the baby currently snuffling and sighing against him. His hand covered her entire back feeling the rapid pace of her breathing. _Her_. _His daughter_. _Their daughter._

He tore his gaze from her to look up at Sherlock, expecting to find the detective as fascinated by the baby as he was, instead finding those grey eyes focused on him.

He looked back down at the tiny girl on his chest. She had a few dark wet curls stuck to her head, her face round and scrunched, clearly unhappy at her sudden entry into the world.

John stroked his thumb softly across her cheek, grinning as she turned her head to chase his thumb with her little mouth.

The midwife did a few small checks on the baby while John held on to her, declaring her fit and well.

"Ok, we're going to cut the cord now, does daddy want to do the honours?" The midwife grinned at Sherlock who was still focused on John, unusually silent.

"She means you, Sherlock," he smiled weakly up at the alpha. "But I don't think he does," he directed at the nurse.

"What? Why would I want to do that?" Sherlock seemed to pull himself out of some kind of deep thought.

John smiled weakly at him, holding the baby snug as the midwife clamped and cut the cord. "Sentiment," he said looking back down at the baby.

"Ok," the midwife interjected softly. "I'm just going to take her to be cleaned and wrapped up so she doesn't get cold." She gently lifted the baby out of John's arms. "Well get you cleaned up a little bit too, right after we've dealt with the placenta."

John kept half an eye on the baby as a different midwife helped him through the last stages of the birth and cleaned him up a little.

 

******1.30am** ** **

"What time is it?" John murmured.

"One thirty," Sherlock murmured, his hand on John’s neck, his thumb rubbing circles against the soft skin there.

"Hmm, pretty quick," he mused leaning back into the pillows. "Are you ok?" John asked, yawning as he reached out to grab Sherlock's hand.

"Me? I'm not the one who just pushed a whole person out of my body."

John grinned at him gently. "No, but you had to see me do it, you helped me do it."

"I didn't do anything," Sherlock eased into the chair next to the bed.

"Yes you did," John said squeezing Sherlock's hand softly. "I don't think I could have done it without you."

Before Sherlock could respond a nurse came in with a tray. "Tea and toast sound ok?" She smiled, putting the tray down on the tray table next to John's bed.

"Perfect," he sighed happily. His eyes often found themselves drawn to the plastic cot next to the bed where the nurse had settled the baby, fast asleep after her long journey into the world.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asked stroking John's hair softly.

"Mmm, think so," John replied sipping his tea. "Sore definitely."

"Obviously, something the size of a melon just came out of a space the size of-"

"No need to finish that, I _was_ there."

Sherlock smirked as John finished his tea and toast. He looked exhausted.

“I can’t believe she’s here,” John smiled looking over at the baby. He was itching to hold her again and now that she’d been cleaned up and dressed and weighed he wanted her in his arms again.

Before he could ask Sherlock to pass her to him a midwife came in, shutting the door gently behind her. "Hello, I um, I saw on your notes that the baby's going to be adopted so you're not having her with you overnight...we um, we'd recommend you have a wash and get settled down for some sleep soon, so I wondered if you wanted us to make sure you're not disturbed for a little while so you can have some time...just you two and her..."

John swallowed hard, the implied 'have some time before you have to say goodbye' hanging heavy in the air. He’d been so focused all day on just getting her out that he’d not thought about this part. Even if he could see her tomorrow, he’d still have to say goodbye to her tonight, and all he wanted was to hold her.

"Uh, yeah," he cleared his throat. "Yes please. That um...That's a good idea." He rubbed his hands on the blanket, pushing himself up to sit up more as the midwife lifted the baby out carefully before handing her over to John.

"I'll be back in about half an hour, ok?"

John nodded weakly, not tearing his eyes away from the tiny baby in his arms. He stroked her cheek softly again, loving how she followed his finger again with her mouth. He watched as she smacked her lips together, her little baby tongue poking out. He stroked a hand over her hat covered head, blinking back the tears that had appeared in his eyes as she shifted against him, nuzzling closer to him, turning her head to press her cheek against him as she tucked her knees up. He sighed softly, holding her a little tighter, feeling her settle against him, trusting him to hold onto her, to look after her, to keep her safe.

He leant down to press a kiss to her head, resting his cheek softly against her, listening to her breathing. He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath of her new baby scent, uniquely her, but familiar to him somehow, similar to his own scent and Sherlock’s but different.

He willed himself to remember every second, every feeling, every smell and sound and sight of her at this moment, this moment that was just his with her, a moment that no-one else would have. No-one else but Sherlock.

He turned his head to look at his lover, the other father of the baby he was holding.

"Come up here," he choked out, tilting his head behind him slightly.

"I-"

"Please." John looked back down at the baby, blinking back more tears as he shuffled down the bed a little.

Sherlock pushed his shoes off, climbing behind John. He wrapped his long legs either side of John's, his arms resting down John's legs. He leant his chin on John's shoulder, peering down at the baby in John's arms, finally looking at her properly. For a few long minutes they sat like that, until Sherlock's hand stroked down John's arm, his hand coming to rest over John's that was covering her back. His hand slowly traced up over John’s hand, over her back, stroking over her hat covered head.

"I'd got so used to saying him it hadn't occurred to me that she might be a girl,” Sherlock whispered to John.

John nodded as he leaned back against Sherlock saying nothing.

"It's strange to me that she was inside you this morning."

John let out a watery laugh. "Me too."

 

******2.15am** ** **

They sat together like that, barely saying a word, barely doing anything other than looking at the newborn until the nurse came in.

"Hi," she smiled sadly at them. "I wondered if you were ready for me to take her over to the nursery, get her settled in for the night?"

John held her closer for a moment, his face wet as he kissed the top of her head softly. He squeezed his eyes shut as Sherlock let go of her. John kissed her softly, leaving a wet streak on her face, as he handed her over to the nurse.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John holding him closer as the omega slumped against him his hands covering his face as he cried, soft sobs turning into shuddering gasps as the nurse quietly wheeled the cot from the room.

 

Sherlock held him tightly, unable to say anything, he didn't know what to say and even if he did he didn't think he'd be able to get any words out.

John dragged in a deep shuddery breath, his eyes still streaming.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into Sherlock's neck before pulling away a little, pushing the call button frantically.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked, still holding onto John as the omega twisted away from Sherlock, pushing himself off the bed on shaky legs.

"Nurse!" John called out, edging round the bed.

"John, what's wrong? Are you in pain?" Sherlock followed John until he stopped near the doorway, his voice worried.

"I'm sorry Sherlock," John managed, voice thick with tears. "I can't do it," he whispered.

The door opened before he could say more. "Are you ok? The call button was pressed?"

"I need you to bring my baby back here please." His voice was thick with tears but certain.

"But I thought-"

"Just bring her back now please,” he snapped at the confused nurse.

"Right, yes, of course, I'll er, I'll be back shortly," the nurse said, leaving in a hurry.

"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock was more bewildered than John could remember having seen him before.

"I can't do it Sherlock," he managed to whisper.

"John, I don't-"

"You do," John nodded softly, not looking at Sherlock as dropped into a chair near the door. "You know what I'm doing...and I’m sorry but I can’t let her go, I can’t do it."

\--------------------------

_There is a blacksmith and there is a shepherd and there is a butcher-boy_  
 _And there is a barber who's cutting and cutting away at my only joy_  
 _I saw a rabbit as slick as a knife and as pale as a candlestick_  
 _And I had thought it'd be harder to do but I caught her and skinned her quick_  
 _Held her there kicking and mewling, upended, unspooling, unsung and blue_  
 _Told her "Wherever you go, little runaway bunny I will find you"_  
 _And then she ran_  
 _As they're liable to do_

_Baby Birch - Joanna Newsom_


	6. Wherever you go little runaway bunny, I will find you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big decisions and big changes ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Firstly, I must offer up my apologies, big massive ones. I definitely did not intend for this to take as long as it has to get out. Life has been a bit horrible for a few weeks, and as well as being horrid it's kept me ridiculously busy so all the writing time I was hoping for didn't happen :-( Also, I've hurt my shoulder which has made typing a bit of a painful activity. Anyway, I apologise, a lot, and thank you to those of you who have been waiting patiently and sticking with this story! 
> 
> Also, your responses to the last chapter was just phenomenal, thank you **_so_** much for your comments and kudos, they mean so much to me and I'm beyond thrilled that people are reading and enjoying this story. I'm so grateful to all of you for reading and especially to those of you that comment, it's amazing.
> 
> I've found this chapter a bit harder to write, I think because of not being able to type for more than about 15 minutes due to my dodgy shoulder, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it and it won't seem too fragmented.
> 
> Usual disclaimer - I own nothing and no-one, all belong to their creators. 
> 
> Fingers crossed for a healed up shoulder and a bit of downtime to be able to get on with finishing the next chapter! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> \-------------------

Sherlock gaped at John for a few seconds before his brain caught up with what was happening.

"But what about everything we’ve planned, John, I still don’t want this!"

"I know, Sherlock, believe me, _I know_. And I thought I wanted that too, you, us, our life, and I do want that, but I want her too."

"You want her more." It wasn't a question.

John shook his head, tears falling as he did it. "No, I want her differently. I can't let her go Sherlock."

"You can have some more time then, you don't have to let her go right now, of course it's too soon, have a couple of days before she goes to her family." Sherlock was crouched in front of John, a hand on his knee.

John shook his head. "It’d just be worse; if I already can't let her go then more time with her is only going to make that worse." He rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to wipe away the accumulated tears. "I didn't expect it to feel like this Sherlock..."

Sherlock dropped back on his heels. "If you do this John, if you choose her, there can't be anymore us."

John squeezed his eyes tightly around the onslaught of tears as Sherlock voiced the situation exactly as bluntly as John would have expected. "It doesn't have to be like that," he shook his head, trying to think of a solution that would stop his heart from breaking. "We could be together and have her, it could be really good-"

"Except I don’t want that! I don't want a child; I don't want to be a parent!" Sherlock stood up, his hand dragging through his hair as he paced the small room.

"You told me once that you didn't want a relationship, but we’ve been in one and it’s been good, it’s been _brilliant_." John tried to reason, grasping at straws, wanting anything to change this situation.

"Exactly John, and here we are, both of us bereft and neither capable if having what they want!"

John covered his face with his hands, tears wetting his fingers as he cried.

Sherlock dropped to a crouch in front of the omega, his big hands stroking the sides if John's neck as he leaned in close to him.

"Please John, please don't do this, I love you." He leaned close, pressing kisses to the omegas face. "Please."

John leaned into Sherlock, kissing him softly through his tears. He dragged in a deep shuddering breath. "I love you too Sherlock, and you've done more for me than any person I've ever known, but I can't give her up for you. I want you both..." His voice was thick.

Sherlock pulled away sharply, dropping back on his heels, his own face damp with tears. He nodded brokenly. "I..." he wiped a hand over his face taking a deep breath. “Your decision is clear then." He pushed himself up to standing, pulling on his shoes and grabbing his long discarded jacket. "I..." he shook his head.

"Sherlock-" John began, watching as the alpha walked out the door. "Sherlock, please!" 

John crumpled over on himself, his head dropping into his hands as his body was wracked with sobs. He heard the rapid footsteps down the corridor outside his hospital room, his head still in his hands as he pressed the heels of his hands into his sore eyes. 

 

In 29 weeks of knowing he was pregnant, he'd never quite imagined this moment. He'd always stopped himself. He'd fantasised about Sherlock changing his mind; about the three of them as a family; even about what trying figure out how to be a good parent might be like, but he'd always stopped himself thinking about this, never imagining making this decision for himself, choosing his child over the man he loved, having to decide what he wanted most, having to choose which decision he could live with more easily. 

 

"John...are you ok?" Lestrade stood cautiously in the doorway, concern all over his tired face.

John shook his head, barely meeting his concerned look.

"Are you physically ok? I mean aside from the obvious..."

John nodded, still looking down at his sock clad feet.

"What happened? I saw Sherlock..."

"I can’t do it," he mumbled, his head resting in his hands. "I can't give her up." That, he thought, summed it up succinctly. He had to choose whether to give her up or not, and he couldn't.

"It's a girl?"

Despite his sorrow John couldn't help the smile that spread over his face as he looked up at Greg. "Yeah...wait, why are you still here?"

Greg had edged closer towards his clearly shocked friend. "Well, we er, we left for a bit, the nurse said it'd be a few hours when Sherlock got here, so we thought we'd come back and see how you were."

"We?"

"Er, me and Mycroft. He went after Sherlock,” he said with a tilt of his head toward the corridor.

"Right..." John managed, rubbing his eyes to try and wipe away some of his tears. He couldn’t seem to form a sentence, or even organise any of his thoughts, the impact of the last 12 hours not really sinking in yet.

"So where is she?" Greg asked, plastering a fake smile to his face, hoping to find something to pull John out of his head.

"A nurse was meant to bring her through." Panic suddenly welled up in him. "She should have been back by now actually, I should check." He made to stand up but Greg held out a hand to stop him.

"I'll go and ask, ok? Why don't you go and wash your face, don't want to scare the little thing," he winked at John as he left the room.

John nodded at Greg’s retreating form, doing as suggested. He looked at himself briefly in the mirror. It was funny to him that he could look exactly as he did 24 hours ago but everything was different.

As he entered the room so did a midwife. That she was empty handed panicked John.

"Where's my baby?" He asked, going rigid.

The midwife smiled warmly. "Don’t panic, she's with a midwife in your room waiting for you."

"My room? I thought I was on the ward?"

The midwife shook her head, gathering up a couple of things. “No, we’ve got you booked into a private room. Let’s get you down there shall we. You can have some time with your girl and I’m sure you’d like a shower?”

John nodded. “Er, yeah, please, that, yes, let’s do that.”

The midwife smiled kindly at him, helping him get the few things he needed from the delivery room to take to his overnight room. “Shall I get you a wheelchair or can you walk? It’s not far.”

“Erm...” John rubbed at his eyes again. Decisions seemed especially difficult at the moment.

“How about we try and walk and if it’s too much then I’ll get you a wheelchair?” The midwife’s voice was soft and kind, clearly trying to keep John calm. The midwives had made their assumptions when John had asked for the baby to be brought back to him, and when they’d heard bits of the argument from John’s room it had confirmed it for them and they’d taken the baby to what was going to be John’s room.

Greg appeared in the doorway as John started to head towards it. “I’ll call in tomorrow to see the little one mate, hope you get a bit of sleep.”

“Thanks Greg, and thank you, for waiting I mean.”

Greg smiled and waved him goodbye as John slowly headed out of the room on weak legs. “Is she ok?” He asked as they shuffled down the corridor.

“She’s perfect,” the midwife smiled. “Absolutely perfect. She’s a good size, healthy-“

“How big is she? I don’t think I took that in earlier.”

The midwife smiled at him guiding him into a room. “She’s 8lbs 5oz and 22inches long, which is above average.”

John smiled. “Her other father’s tall.”

“Makes sense then. Now,” the midwife directed that warm smile at him again. “Let’s get you up on the bed, I bet you can’t wait to have another hold, and we can have a little chat about feeding her.”

As John eased onto the bed and propped himself up the midwife rolled the plastic cot over to the bed before scooping up the blanket wrapped bundle and easing her into his arms.

John gazed down at the sleeping baby, his vision swimming as his eyes filled up again. He held her close to him, pressing kisses over her face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m here now, I’m here.”

As he held her close the pain of the last few hours, both physical and otherwise eased slightly. He breathed in her baby smell again, feeling her stir and snuffle against him. He felt awful, really awful, probably more dreadful than he’d felt for a long time, but she was worth it. The rush of love that barrelled through him as he felt the rapid rise and fall of her chest made him certain that if he had to decide then he’d decided right, that despite the cost, it was a price worth paying to know that she would always be his.

 

\---------------------

 

Around 4am he’d text Mycroft.

 **Are you with Sherlock? How is he?** – 04.02 13.03.14

 

\---------------------

 

Mycroft had decided to wait with Greg, just to hear if John and the baby were ok. They’d had some fairly poor hospital food once Sherlock had kicked them out of the delivery room, and they’d chatted for a few hours before ending up outside John’s room. When Sherlock had come storming out of the room Mycroft had assumed fairly instantly what had happened and gone chasing after his brother.

He’d spent most of his life trying to keep track of Sherlock. He’d been somewhat successful, even if keeping track had just meant that he’d had to watch Sherlock delve into the darker pursuits that had plagued him for longer than Mycroft could bear.

Sherlock had been clean and functional before John had arrived in his life, but functional was as good as it could be described. John and Sherlock had barrelled into each other’s lives and given each other things that they hadn’t realised they were missing. Mycroft had watched as they’d grown closer and brought each other to life in a way that he’d never imagined would be possible for Sherlock.

Mycroft had never believed that bonding and breeding was important. He’d never done it, knew lots of people that didn’t and had happy lives, and thought that maybe John and Sherlock had reached an agreement that would keep them happy and fulfilled. He’d felt like he could step back and let someone else be the person keeping an eye on Sherlock, and that had worked brilliantly.

Brilliantly, until he’d found out about John’s pregnancy. He’d assumed it was unplanned but until Sherlock had told him they weren’t keeping the baby that thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’d thought his brother was probably a somewhat reluctant father but that he’d adapt to it. He’d not expected Sherlock to be as immovable about this as he had been.

Mycroft caught up with Sherlock outside the hospital as he tried to hail a cab.

“Sherlock-“

“Don’t!” He barked as a cab pulled up.

Mycroft followed Sherlock into the cab, Sherlock huffing as he did so but not acknowledging him as he told the taxi driver to take him to Baker Street. He didn't acknowledge him for the entire journey, and Mycroft could feel his panic rising.

As Sherlock slammed the car door Mycroft threw some cash at the cabbie and chased after his brother.

"Sherlock," he called, grabbing the door just before it slammed shut. He ran up the stairs managing to catch the door to 221b just before that one slammed.

"Usually when someone slams a door that indicates they don't want you to go through it," Sherlock snapped throwing his coat on the sofa.

Mycroft watched as he began pacing.

"Sherlock, I don't think you should be on your own."

"Well I may as well get used to it," he shouted, storming into the kitchen he hopped up onto the counter and began rummaging in the boxes on top of the cupboards.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft could feel the panic settling in his stomach. Sherlock was impossible when he was like this, but Mycroft could hardly blame him.

Sherlock dropped down from the counter a small box in his hand.

"Surely even you wouldn't begrudge me a cigarette at a time like this?" He pulled one out of the box rummaging on the kitchen counter for matches.

Mycroft shook his head. "No, no I wouldn't." If only cigarettes were Mycroft’s only concern. He watched as Sherlock continued his pacing and smoking.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock snapped at his brother.

"I was...concerned when you left John's room as you did." He noticed the way Sherlock flinched when he said John’s name.

"You know what happened." There was no question in Sherlock's statement. He continued pacing and smoking.

"I...I deduced." He shifted awkwardly as Sherlock paced.

Sherlock nodded absently. "I should have known."

"You couldn't know-"

"Of course I could have!" Sherlock rounded on Mycroft. "Did you know?"

Mycroft was still under his brother’s stare. "How on earth would _I_ know Sherlock? You know John better than anyone, if you didn't know how would I?"

Sherlock stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another one. "Maybe being so close was the problem, I wanted to believe that John would pick me, so I believed it. Stupid. Stupid stupid."

Mycroft stepped closer to the pacing man. "Sherlock it’s not stupid, John wants-"

"You have no idea what John wants!" Sherlock snapped, moving closer to his brother. He ran a hand through his already chaotic curls.

"Why are you here Mycroft?" Sherlock's voice was icy but he carried on before Mycroft could answer. "Are you here for congratulations, here to gloat?!"

"What? Why would I be gloating?" Mycroft’s voice was confusion through and through.

"Because you were right, all this time you were right! ‘All hearts are broken, caring is not an advantage.' You told me that and I cared about John, I loved him and was idiotic enough to believe he loved me and here we are! My heart is broken and I was an idiot! So congratulations brother, you were right again, you must be very satisfied." Sherlock stormed into the kitchen rifling through cupboards until he came back with a bottle of whiskey that a patient had given John at Christmas. A ridiculous gift for a pregnant omega Sherlock had thought at the time, but now he was glad of it.

Mycroft was stunned by Sherlock’s outburst "Sherlock, you can't honestly think that I'm in any way pleased with this situation!" He followed as far as the doorway to the kitchen, his stomach clenching as his brother poured a large drink into a tumbler and knocked half of it back at once.

"Why wouldn't you be?! You were right, I was wrong and foolish, and now I'm alone again like you are. Maybe this is it for us brother _dearest_ ," Sherlock gestured around him, his voice acidic. "Maybe this is it, us both alone and destined to remain that way forever, torturing each other until the day we die!" He finished the rest of his drink in one go and poured another equally large measure.

"Sherlock, all I want is for you to be happy!"

"Well you can't control that! There's nothing you can do about _this_ is there? So kindly get out of my flat." Distaste dripped from every word.

"Sherlock-"

"Get out!" Sherlock roared, his half full glass smashing against the wall near Mycroft's head. Sherlock turned and swept the items covering the kitchen counter to the ground, smashing around Sherlock's feet. "Get out and leave me alone!"

Mycroft knew better than to try and reason with Sherlock in this state and beat a hasty retreat down the stairs, followed by the sound of more breaking glass from the flat above.

Mrs Hudson poked her head out as Mycroft reached the front door. "Oh Mycroft, what's happened? Is John..."

Mycroft shook his head. "John's fine, he had a girl."

"But Sherlock-"

"John wants to keep the baby."

"Oh!" Her hand fluttered to her mouth. "And Sherlock's unhappy?"

There was another crash from upstairs and Mrs Hudson flinched.

"I'll ensure that any damages are repaired. There'll be a car outside for a while so if you need anything please do let them know."

With that Mycroft left Mrs Hudson and hurried out of 221b his phone in hand.

 

Sherlock's rage eventually subsided leaving him in the debris of his kitchen as he slumped against the counter, his chest heaving in deep breaths.

He starred down at his hands, grazed and bleeding from broken crockery. He crouched down and picked up a bright blue piece of broken ceramic, recognising it as part of John's favourite mug. For a moment he thought about how much trouble he'd be in when John got home and discovered it was broken. He let out a sharp humour free laugh as he reminded himself that John probably wouldn't be coming home, not really, not properly, so he probably wouldn’t really give a shit about his mug.

Sherlock unfurled his fingers from around the piece of broken mug and let it tumble to the floor. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey foregoing a glass as he dropped to the sofa where he intended to drink enough to either pass out our forget everything.

Passing out came first.

 

\----------------------------------

 

 _I believe he’s drinking himself unconscious at the home. I’m hopeful that alcohol is the worst thing he has in the flat – M_ 04.07 14/03/13

John sighed and tucked the phone on the cabinet next to the bed. For once he was grateful of Mycroft’s meddling, trusting him to keep an eye on Sherlock while he was too exhausted to.

 

\---------------------------------------

**Day 1**

John had managed about 4 hours sleep, interrupted by first nappy change, first feed on his own, crying for no apparent reason, an hour when he just couldn’t bear to be as far away from her as she was when she was in the cot. By the time breakfast had been brought around he’d given up on trying to get more sleep and had the little girl wrapped in his arms after a quick shower and change of clothes.

He was watching her sleep, fascinated by her tiny movements, when there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Time for a visitor?” Greg smiled.

“Well, I was thinking about going for a run, but I guess I could stay here for a chat instead,” John said with a smile and a roll of his eyes.

Greg laughed and came closer to the bed, giving John’s shoulder a squeeze as he peered down at the baby.

“She’s beautiful John,” he said dropping down into the chair next to the bed.

“She is isn’t she? I mean...I’m biased, but I’m pretty sure she’s the most beautiful baby I've ever seen."

Greg smiled at him. "So how're you doing? You look a bit less pale than yesterday...this morning...whichever."

John managed to smile weakly at his friend, the smile not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm...I was going to say ok but I'm not ok, I'm overwhelmed. There's just so much to do that I hadn't even realised needed doing because I never thought I'd need to do it, and the adoption caseworker came in not long ago because I needed to sign off a few things, and I feel awful for the family that were lined up to take her, and as well as all that I've got a fairly steady level of guilt and panic about Sherlock underlining everything..." John looked up at Greg. "Sorry I probably should have just stuck with 'I'm ok' shouldn't I?"

"Not at all, hey, we're friends, good friends I thought, you can tell me how you are when I ask. Can I help with anything?"

"I don't think so. Oh, you could do something, I need some clothes, I only brought one lot in with me. Would you go to baker St and get some of my things?"

Greg nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah of course, are you...are they keeping you in then?"

"Er, no, well, I'm staying in tonight, but I don't think I'm going to be going back to Baker St once they let me out."

"What? John, has Sherlock asked you to leave?" Greg sat forward in his chair, concern on his face.

John shook his head. "No, no, he's not spoken to me since he left actually...but, I can't go back there can I?"

"It's your home as much as Sherlock's-"

"Baker St is Sherlock's and you know it Greg," John interrupted. "I was just lucky enough to get to share it with him." John swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"Where are you going to go?" 

John loved that Greg was to the point, that's what he needed while he was struggling with thinking straight. 

"I've got no bloody clue," he said letting out a shaky laugh that woke up the baby in his arms who let out a high pitched cry. "Ooh, sorry sweetheart, sorry, was Papa too loud? Sorry," he rocked her gently, soothing her back to sleep. 

"Going for Papa then?" Greg asked with a smile.

"Yeah, Sherlock's her Daddy, even if he doesn't want to be, and even if he won't be on her birth certificate," John sighed.

"What? Why not?"

"Because we're not bonded he has to be there in person when I register her birth, and I can't see that happening, so legally she'll be alphaless baby Watson." John swallowed hard, the thought making his heart sink. 

He knew it wasn't like in the old days where being a single parent was a big shame or anything, but he knew and loved her father and was gutted that legally he couldn't show that, and that his daughter wouldn’t even have that link to her alpha father.

"Well, if any kid was going to have just the one parent I think you're a pretty good pick." 

"I dunno, I've not got the first idea of what I need to do, I've got no home, no baby stuff, no partner...I've not even got a name for her." He looked at his friend, holding his eye. "What the fuck am I doing?"

"All those things John, they don't matter, not really, she won't remember any of that, and it takes loads of parents ages to name their kids, they give you a week for a reason. You'll figure this out and those things won't matter, what matters is they you love her, and anyone with eyes can see you're besotted with her. And if I can help at all you just need to tell me how, ok?"

John nodded and shifted the baby slightly to free up a hand to wipe his eyes with. "Bloody hell, I'll be glad when this crying at everything eases off, I'm a soldier for fucks sake." 

Greg laughed as John composed himself. "I'm sure it won't last long mate. Oh, and you know you're welcome to come and stay with me don't you? My flat's a bit shit, but I've got a spare room that you're both more than welcome to."

"Thank you, I just might take you up on that."

"Good," Greg smiled standing up and pulling his notebook out. "Now write me that list of what you want from Baker St and I'll go and get it for you."

 

\---------------

 

The door opened a tiny crack, John looking up from the nursing baby to see a familiar face in the gap. 

"You can come in Mols," he smiled.

"Sorry wasn't sure if you'd be sleeping-oh!" She stopped just inside the door, noticing the baby. "Oh! I can- should I leave?"

John grinned as Molly blushed. "You're fine to stay if you don't mind me finishing feeding her?"

"No! No, I don't, no."

"Why don't you sit down? She might be a while," he nodded to the chair next to the bed.

"I didn't realise-I mean-I heard you were here but-" she shook her head, fiddling with the hem of her lab coat. "I wasn't sure she'd still be with you."

John smiled at Molly's awkwardness. "I'm keeping her."

Molly gasped, her hand going over her mouth. "You are?" Her eyes were glossy. 

John nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah."

"Oh John! I'm so happy for you! Did Sherlock change his mind?"

John shook his head, looking down at his daughter before meeting Molly's eyes. "No, no, Sherlock still feels the same so it's just me and this little one now I think."

"Oh...He might come round?" Molly offered.

"When have you ever known Sherlock to change his mind?" John asked with a wry smile.

"He did about you didn't he?" She said gently.

"And I bet he's wishing he hadn't now," John sighed.

Molly fidgeted awkwardly. "Um, how long are they keeping you in for?"

"Just tonight I think. And I think they're only doing that because they think I might go into shock or something," he laughed weakly. "At least that gives me time to figure out somewhere to stay once I leave."

"Oh! You can stay with me John, my flatmate's in Spain for 3 months so I've got space." She was practically beaming by the time she'd said it.

"Thanks Molly, that's really kind if you, I'll bear that in mind. Can I let you know later?"

Molly nodded. "Of course of course! Is there anything you need, anything I can do for you?"

John shook his head, sending a smile her way. "Not that I can think of right now, thank you though Molly. Although...you could do one thing for me?"

"Anything," she agreed, earnestly.

"Will you keep an eye on Sherlock? When he comes to Bart’s, will you just see how he's doing?"

Molly nodded, face serious again. "Of course I will John."

Before John could say anything else, the baby started fussing and Molly headed back to work with a quick goodbye and a promise to come and see him again before she went home.

 

\-----------------

 

Greg had knocked on the door, just out of politeness, even though he didn't expect Sherlock to answer. When it became apparent that Sherlock was either out or had no intention of answering, Greg let himself in with the key John had given him.

As he stepped into 221b he was greeted by the wreckage of what was once the living room and kitchen, and a sleeping Sherlock, sprawled over the sofa, still in his shirt and trousers from the day before. 

Greg stepped carefully through the mess, before pulling one set of curtains open.

"Morning sunshine," he said loudly as Sherlock flinched awake, covering his eyes as Greg pulled the other curtains open.

"Fuck off."

Greg sighed as Sherlock tried to bury his head under a pillow. "Been a while since I've seen you in this state."

"I said 'Fuck off'," came Sherlock's muffled response.

"Yeah, heard you the first time." He looked around at the debris of the flat. "I like what you've done with the place." He wandered through the flat to the kitchen, flipping the kettle on before rummaging through cupboards pulling out coffee and two mugs that were tucked behind some jars. 

A few minutes later he perched on the coffee table holding one mug out to a paler than usual consulting detective.

"Here, I doubt it'll help but it won't make you worse."

Sherlock glared at Greg, waiting for the man to leave, but when he stayed put sipping at his own coffee Sherlock sighed an pushed himself up to sitting, roughly taking the coffee held before him.

"How are you feeling?" Greg asked blowing over his mug.

"Hungover."

"Did you take anything?"

Sherlock shook his head softly.

"Because you didn't want to or because you didn't have anything?"

Sherlock snorted, shaking his head. "I realised I wouldn't get far, Mycroft had a car parked outside, probably still there."

Greg nodded; he'd spotted it on his way in.

"What time is it?" Sherlock croaked, sipping at his coffee.

"Half twelve."

"Why are you here?"

"To check on you and to pick up some things for John." Greg watched the tiny flinch at the mention of John. Sherlock gathered himself quickly and nodded.

"There's an overnight bag under the bed."

"Is that all you've got to say?"

Sherlock looked up from his coffee, his red eyes meeting Greg's. "What would you like me to say?"

"You can pretend that you don't care Sherlock but the evidence contrary to that is pretty obvious." Greg's eyes flicked to the chaos around them. 

Sherlock shrugged half heartedly. "Caring is not an advantage."

Greg rolled his eyes. "You're ridiculous, your brother too. And whether you like it or not, you care about John."

"And it doesn't change anything so what's the point?"

"The point is that he loves you, you dickhead."

"And it still doesn't change anything!” Sherlock shouted, red eyes meeting Greg’s. “John wants the baby; I don't want to be a parent. The two are incompatible."

Greg shook his head, standing up and heading for the door through to the bedroom. He turned to face Sherlock.

"You know what Sherlock; you've always been a bit of a selfish arse, but for once it doesn’t matter what you want. It doesn't matter if you don't want to be a parent because you are one now, whether you like it or not, you can't undo this or delete it. You can ignore her, ignore John, you could not go when he registers her birth and ensure that the alpha section of her birth certificate stays empty and that she's a Watson not a Holmes, but that won't change the fact that you, Sherlock Holmes, are her father, you don't have a choice in that."

When Sherlock said nothing Greg shook his head, leaving the man hunched on the sofa as Greg packed what John had requested.

 

\------------------------

 

John had been dozing while his daughter slept, taking full advantage of even a few minutes if quite to rest his exhausted brain and body. His mind seemed less keen to switch off though, waking him frequently with imagined noises from the cot beside his bed, or from dreams of Sherlock, always Sherlock.

He sighed, yawning as he leaned over to check on the baby, _his baby_. He smiled at the thought. It was strange to him to think the he was now a parent. He'd never been broody, was never the kind of omega that begged to be bred during heats. He was quite happy without a baby, but now faced with an actual flesh and blood child that he'd created he wondered how he'd ever thought he'd be able to let go of her, how he'd ever thought he could be without her. 

Just as he was contemplating the downside of picking her up again _(she might cry for no apparent reason, other than having been disturbed)_ vs. the upside _(she’d be closer to him)_ there was a tap on his open door.

"You know you don't have to knock if a door's open Mycroft," he smiled at the man who definitely did not look like he'd hung around a hospital til the early hours of the morning and then had who knows what confrontation with his brother. He looked as pristine and unruffled as ever in a crisp 3 piece suit.

Mycroft nodded as he sat by John's bed. He peered into the cot, taking in the pink faced bundle.

"She's very pink."

John couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. "That's very true."

"Is she well?" Mycroft asked turning back to John taking in the bags under his eyes and his pale skin.

"She's great."

"I thought you might appreciate some none hospital food," Mycroft said, handing a bag over to John. "Apologies if they're bland, I wasn't sure if you still had any dietary restrictions."

John pulled a sandwich out of the bag, leaving the two others in there. "Ah, thank you, the food here is truly awful." John unwrapped the sandwich and was about to take a big bite, before he stopped himself and lowered the sandwich. "Wait...what do I owe you for these?" He asked looking at Mycroft through narrowed eyes.

Mycroft rolled his eyes at John. "Don't be absurd, you don't owe me anything."

"I wasn't thinking money," John added suspiciously.

"I know," Mycroft replied dryly. "You’ve just given birth to my niece, the least I could do is bring you some food that's actually edible."

John nodded finally starting on the sandwich. 

"Actually that's partly why I'm here, I'm assuming your plans don't involve going back to Baker St when you're discharged from here?"

John shook his head, unable to speak due to the mouthful of sandwich.

"Do you have somewhere planned?" 

John shook his head, trying to finish what was in his mouth.

"Well I think you should come and stay at my house."

John had been mid swallow and immediately began choking. _Him_ at _Mycroft's_?! 

As he controlled his coughing, his eyes flicking to the cot to make sure the baby hadn't been disturbed, he turned his attention to Mycroft. 

"What?! No, thank you, but...I don't think it's a good idea. Greg and Molly both have offered their spare rooms-"

"I understand that you are closer to them both than you are to me, but you need to think practically John. I have several spare rooms, I'm rarely home and I have a very helpful housekeeper." Mycroft's face was its usual inscrutable mask.

John could feel his mouth hanging open. "You've got a housekeeper? Actually, that doesn't surprise me, I can see you hoovering about as much as I can see Sherlock doing it. Why would I need use of a housekeeper?"

"I understand babies create a lot of laundry, and Ms Archer is an excellent cook, both things that I doubt you'll have much time or energy for while caring for a baby on your own."

John's head was spinning. "Mycroft..." he sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Is this to antagonise Sherlock?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes again. "Despite popular opinion, my aim in life is not to cause trouble for my brother."

"He'll be furious though."

"John, Sherlock has made his choices, for now at least, and you must make yours. I know that we aren't close, and I'm not someone that you would consider a friend, but you are the father of my niece. I am offering you a short term solution to the predicament you find yourself in, due in no small part to my brother."

John nodded weakly. "I...I need to think about it, if that's ok?"

"Of course, John. Just to let you know that Ms Archer is also a very adept organiser so should you decide to take up my offer she can very easily arrange all the baby...paraphernalia."  
John nodded again. “Right, thanks, I’ll have a think and let you know later.” 

"Of course," Mycroft said, straightening his jacket as he stood. “I hope you’re able to get some rest. I’ll see you soon I’m sure.”

 

\--------------

 

**Day 2**

John stood slightly awkwardly in the grand foyer of Mycroft's needlessly big house. He smiled down at the baby pressed against his front in the papoose Molly had bought for him. He didn't want to think about what his next credit card bill was going to look like, but his baby now had a few more clothes, a Moses basket, a baby bath, nappies, bottles, and who knows what else that Molly had apparently dropped off at Mycroft’s earlier in the day.

He stroked her back softly, one hand resting under the bottom of the papoose, still feeling a little bit wary about some strips of material holding his child securely. 

He looked around the hallway again. He'd been to Mycroft's house a few times over the years, but he'd never really taken it in, he was usually trailing after Sherlock, trying to stop him from doing something too stupid. He sighed as he thought of Sherlock, wondered what he was doing right at that moment but pulled himself away from the thought before he could get too sucked into it.

"Hmm, it's posh isn't it sweetheart. What do you reckon?" He watched as she snuggled against his chest before slipping back into sleep. "I wasn’t convinced, but it is the most practical solution, even if it’s a bit fancy for us Watsons.” He smiled at her sleeping face. “I dunno, you seem pretty comfortable, you're half Holmes though so maybe it suits you?" He smiled at the sleeping bundle. "Don't get used to it though baby; we're only going to stay for a few weeks until Papa gets something else figured out.” He sighed at the entire lack of ‘something else’ that he had planned. “Come on, let's go and see what Uncle Mycroft's got in his fridge shall we?"

 

\-----------

 

Around three am the baby had woken up for a feed, and then refused to settle again, she'd been winded, her nappy had been changed, she’d been swaddled and unswaddled and nothing had comforted her. An hour later and John had got tired of pacing the bedroom he'd set up as his own, and had slowly wandered downstairs, gently rocking the baby, trying to calm her.

He walked through the massive kitchen toward the living room planning on at least sitting in a comfy chair if he was going to be awake in the middle of the night.

"Are you ok John?"

John gasped, holding the baby closer as his heart raced. He spun around finding Mycroft standing behind him. 

"Bloody hell Mycroft, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" He consciously slowed his breathing. "Why are you up?" He took in Mycroft's suited figure. "Have you even been to bed?"

"No, no, I've just got home. Apologies for the fright. I heard the baby and thought I'd check you were both ok?"

"We're fine," John nodded, stroking the little girl's back. "She's unsettled, that's all, we were going to sit on the sofa and see if that helps her as much as it usually helps her Papa." John managed to smile round a yawn. 

"If I might suggest something?" Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow.

At John’s nod Mycroft began walking the opposite way, through to a smallish room that John would probably call a sunroom but that he thought Mycroft might call something absurd like an orangery.

He gestured at a high backed chair that rocked slightly as John sat on it, mewling baby squirming in his arms.

"Sherlock was always very soothed by a rocking chair," Mycroft said eventually, the baby having settled down to occasional squalling rather than constant crying.

John smiled up at the older Holmes. "Looks like this little one is too. Thank you Mycroft."

Mycroft shook his head slightly. "Good night, John."

"Night Mycroft."

John rocked slowly, imaging Sherlock when he was as tiny as their baby was now. He closed his eyes and imagined Sherlock being soothed and calmed by the thing that was now calming the tiny girl he was holding. He looked down at her face as she settled in his arms. She looked like Sherlock, John thought. Maybe tomorrow he’d ask Mycroft if he had any pictures of Sherlock as a child to compare the two. She certainly seemed to have his dark hair if the few tufty curls she had were anything to go by.

John sighed and swallowed around the lump in his throat as he thought about Sherlock. He had the overwhelming urge to go to Baker St immediately, to find Sherlock and tell him how much he loved him. That there was nothing about Sherlock that was making John choose this, but that how he felt about the baby was just so much more intense than he’d ever been able to picture. He wanted to tell him that the only person he’d ever felt so strongly about was Sherlock himself, and that part of what he loved about the baby was that Sherlock was _part_ of her, that Sherlock had _given_ her to John. He couldn’t stand the thought of Sherlock being upset and alone, and he was desperate to go to him, to reassure him, to show him how loved he was and how much John wanted him.

But John couldn’t do those things. He couldn’t leave their baby to go and comfort her other father, she was his first priority now, and didn’t that just sum it all up neatly. As John kissed her sleeping face, holding her closer, he wished again that Sherlock was with him, not just so that he could share their daughter’s first hours with him, but so that John could keep both halves of his heart as close to him as he was longing to. 


	7. The way is long but you can make it easy on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's in a name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> So I had a little bit of extra time this weekend and feel almost 100% again so managed to get more writing done than I'd thought, hurrah. 
> 
> Thank you all so much again for your amazing comments and kudos on the last chapter, and this story as a whole. I can't believe it's had over 10,000 hits and so many comments. It really means so much to me and makes my day every time I see your responses. 
> 
> Slightly different format for most of this one, hope it still flows ok. Oh yeah, a couple of Britishisms that I wasn't sure if people would know (apologies if you all do and this is just unnecessary!), so 'dab hand' = expert and 'Moses basket' = bassinet. Let me know if there's any others, but they were the only two that stood out to me! 
> 
> Also, the wonderful song that was my inspiration for this work isn't really relevant for the rest of the chapters so titles etc might be a bit more random now. If you've not already then I highly recommend you give Baby Birch by Joanna Newsom a listen, it's responsible really for this whole fic.
> 
> As usual, I own nothing and no-one, all belong to their original creators.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it! 
> 
>  p.s. Picking a name for even a fictional baby is _so_ hard!
> 
> \---------

\------

 

John had been warned by the midwife when she'd visited him the day after he left hospital. She'd warned him about the rush of emotions that could be expected over the next few days, she'd said things might seem even harder since he was a single parent, a phrase that had made his stomach twist strangely ( _single_ ), she'd told him not to worry about any kind of routine, to just go along with whatever the baby needed, to sleep when she slept when possible.

He'd nodded and smiled and agreed all the while thinking that half this stuff wouldn't apply to him. He'd been to war for goodness sake; he could handle no sleep and no routine.

Then all of a sudden 4 days had passed in the blink of an eye, the midwife’s next visit was upon him and suddenly it all seemed so much more overwhelming than he'd thought it would be. In those 4 days time had seemed to disintegrate to nothing. He barely even registered if it was light or dark.

At some point between the two visits he'd felt like he'd run a marathon of emotions and physically felt like he'd been hit by a truck.

 

\--------

 

_**Exhaustion** _

When John found himself nursing his daughter for the third time in 5 hours, after the 4th nappy change in as many hours, certain he'd not slept for more than 15 minutes in a row he could maybe see what the midwife was talking about. He didn't think he'd even showered in the last 24 hours. 

He looked up as there was a tap on the open door to the sunroom, Greg's smiling face in the doorway. 

"Feel like some company?"

John opened his mouth to reply but he felt like he'd swallowed sand and only managed to nod, his eyes itchy.

"How are you doing then?" Greg asked, sitting on a wicker stool opposite where John was in the rocking chair. "You look great."

"Fuck off," John laughed, his voice thick. "I look like shit. Thanks though."

Greg grinned at him. "So how are things then? She ok?"

"She's great, yeah, she's doing everything she should be, I just hadn't expected it to be so...constant." John laughed weakly. "That's ridiculous isn't it?"

Greg shook his head. "Not at all, it’s relentless. I think that's probably why there's normally two of you doing this."

John nodded as his heart and throat seemed to tighten at the same time. 

"Sorry, that was tactless."

John shook his head. "No, no, you're fine, it's true. I spend half my time hating him for not being here and the other half missing him like I've lost a limb."

Greg nodded slowly. He could understand John's mixed feelings. He was furious with Sherlock for adding such a tangle of feelings to what was already an emotional time for John. 

"Have you seen him?" John asked, eyes dropping down to the baby.

"No, he's not been to the yard and I've not had anything new in the last few days." 

John nodded, buttoning up his shirt one handed, a moved he'd got proficient in very quickly, carefully shifting the baby to rest on his shoulder as he rubbed her back softly.

He wasn't sure if that was better or worse than if Sherlock had been straight back to badgering Lestrade for cases. He desperately wanted to know how Sherlock was, what he was doing, but the thought of him going back to normal so quickly terrified John.

"So how are things going with the little one then? Has she got a name yet?" Greg asked interrupting his wandering mind.

John shook his head pulling his thoughts out of the Sherlock shaped part of his brain. "Not yet," he sighed. "Every time I think of one I hear Sherlock in my head and he doesn't like any of them." He smiled at Greg as he rubbed his daughter's back. "I think 'Rose is nice' I hear _You watch too much Dr Who_. I think 'Penny's sweet' I hear _Ridiculous, who'd name a child after a coin?_ I think 'Chloe' I hear _Dull_. I think 'Viola' I hear _Absolutely not_." He looked at Greg with a roll of his tired eyes.

"They're all nice names," Greg said, stretching his feet out.

John nodded absently as his baby snuggled against him. "Mmm, can't pick any of them now though-" John's thought was interrupted by a jaw popping yawn.

"Are you getting _any_ sleep?"

John shook his head as the yawn ended. "Not much, when she's not waking up for feeding she needs a nappy change or needs some closeness, and by the time that's all done she's hungry again, so we start over." He yawned again. "I don't think I've even showered since yesterday morning...maybe it was the afternoon, I'm not even sure what time it is now. Thank God for Mycroft's housekeeper or I'd never eat. Though eating spag bol at 6am is bloody weird." He laughed softly. 

Greg laughed. "Must be. So Mycroft's got a housekeeper?" Greg looked around. "Bit fancy. Can't believe you're staying here."

"I know," John nodded, switching the baby from his shoulder to his arms, rocking her gently. "It's bloody weird, but...It's the best option, for her. Mycroft's hardly ever here, the housekeeper, Ms Archer, is a God send, it's...It's practical."

Greg nodded. "Makes sense, but, if the poshness ever gets too much for you, you know where I am."

"Thanks mate, right now I'd just be happy to have a shower, but as soon as I put her down either she cries and I panic, or I just panic." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I honestly hadn't expected this level of deranged." 

Greg stood up and moved closer to John. "Come on, hand her over, go and have a wash, I'm sure this place has got a bloody good shower somewhere, hundreds of jets and all that." He held out his hands.

John looked up at him, unconvinced. 

"Come on, I've done this before you know, I can look after her for ten minutes while you have a wash."

John sighed and stood up handing her over carefully. "Alright, thanks, I'll leave the door unlocked so if there's a problem come and get me ok?"

Eleven minutes later John was washed, in clean clothes and back in the sunroom easing his sleepy baby from Greg's arms, holding her close to him, breathing in her baby smell.

"Sorry," he mumbled to Greg. "It's not personal; I'm just twitchy that's all. I keep having these nightmares about someone coming to take her to the family that were meant to adopt her."

Greg frowned at him. "You know that's not going to happen don't you?"

"Mmm," John managed noncommittally. He yawned again before leaning down to kiss the baby's head, closing his eyes. 

"Right, you look practically asleep standing up, I'll leave you to try and get some rest." Greg stood up and gave John's arm a squeeze.

John nodded at him, the exhaustion hitting him in full force. "It was good to see you mate, come back soon, yeah?"

"Definitely, when you and the little one feel like some air let me know ok? I'm a dab hand with a pram."

John smiled round another yawn. "Thanks."

 

\--------------

 

_**Indecision** _

After Greg had gone John made his way up the stairs, lying on the bed in the room that had become his and laid the baby on his chest. The tiny girl snuggled against him, her hand wrapping around his finger as he stroked her palm.

He sighed softly. 

"What do you reckon then sweetheart, what shall we call you? Can't just be Baby Watson forever."

He yawned and rubbed his stinging eyes with his free hand before rubbing it over her back.

"Hmm, Isabelle? Elizabeth? Jessica?"

John yawned again. "Not convinced?" He asked her tiny form. "Me either."

He thought through a few more names before he sighed again. "Caroline? Emily? Emma?" John rolled his eyes. "Ridiculous, Emma Watson? Don't want to give you a celebrity name." He rubbed her back softly. "Emma Holmes sounds nice though...Sorry about that sweetheart, I've really messed that one up for you haven’t I?"

Forcing himself to stop thinking about all the ways he’d made a mess of the situation he gently eased himself off the bed, softly transferring the baby to the Moses basket. "Well, Papa should try and get some sleep since no doubt you'll be awake again in the next couple of hours." He leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll find you a good name beautiful, I promise."

 

\-----------

 

_**Guilt** _

John woke to the now familiar sound of his daughter crying. He stumbled out of bed and leaned over to pick her up in a move that was now familiar to him. Despite his bone aching tiredness he smiled down at his baby before his smile quickly turned to a frown. 

"Oh sweetheart, what's happened?" He leaned down and kissed the red scratch on her face, spotting the tiny mitten in the crib. "Oh beautiful girl, I'm sorry, did Papa not put your scratch mitt on properly? I'm so sorry." He rocked her gently, slowly walking down the hall to the bathroom where most of the baby stuff had ended up. "Poor baby, I'm sorry," he murmured kissing her again, guilt like he’d never really felt before settled uneasily in the pit of his stomach. 

He rummaged through a bag of bits that Molly had bought, pulling out some tiny nail clippers. He sat on the closed toilet, holding the still crying baby snugly. 

"I'm sorry sweetheart I'm such a bad Papa, I should have trimmed these already."

He jumped a little as a voice interrupted as he opened the packaging.

"You're not a bad father John, I believe these things happen."

He looked up to see Mycroft fully dressed, though minus his jacket, standing in the open door way. 

"Would you like some assistance? I could hold her hand for you?"

John looked down at her wriggling in his lap before looking back up at Mycroft. "That er, that might be handy actually."

John felt like he was in the twilight zone as Mycroft dropped to his knees in front of the loo and stroked the baby's hand before holding it gently. He wondered briefly if his exhausted brain was making him hallucinate.

"Thank you," John whispered as he clipped her tiny nails one after the other.

"This doesn't make you a bad parent John, it's just a scratch," Mycroft said, speaking softly. "You shouldn't feel guilty."

He sighed. "Honestly Mycroft, this is just a tiny drop in the ocean of all the guilt I feel."

At Mycroft's raised eyebrow John sighed and continued.

"I'm guilty that I ever thought of not keeping her, I'm guilty about how gutted the family that were lined up for her must be, I'm guilty about Sherlock," he sighed again.

"John-"

"Don't," John said quietly. "We need to talk about money," he said after a beat.

Mycroft looked up at that, still holding the baby's hand. "Why?"

"Because that's another thing I feel guilty about." John swapped to begin trimming his daughter's other nails. "Your fridge is always full, your washing machine's been on non-stop, I've not paid you any rent..."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed. "You don't owe me for any of those things."

"I really do."

"You don't. John, there's already a trust fund set up for her, all of this," he said with a brief glance around, "will be hers one day, think of this as just utilizing it in advance."

John's head snapped up. "What do you mean 'all of this'?"

Mycroft sighed. "John, as much as Sherlock might like to act like he has nothing it can't come as a surprise that our family has money, although to be fair Sherlock hasn't had unrestricted access to his trust fund for a very long time given the way he burned through a large chunk of it when he did have it." He sighed and shook his head. "Regardless, she's a Holmes and there are ways that things are done in this family, and things to be passed on."

John concentrated on finishing trimming the tiny nails, the thought of those things too overwhelming for him at the moment. "Well...That might be true for her, but I'm not a Holmes, I should contribute."

Mycroft sighed again. "My brother should be providing these things for you John, but because he's selfish and stubborn and childish he isn't. I'd really rather not talk about money anymore, it’s terribly vulgar, so please just leave things be." 

John opened his mouth but thought better of it and closed it again, deciding to let it go, just for now, nodding as he manoeuvred his daughter to hold her close as he stood up, rocking her gently as she settled down.

"Thank you Mycroft."

Mycroft shook his head moving to the hallway. "No need John."

With that he was gone, and John could only wish that the strange encounter had taken some of John's guilt with him.

 

\------------

 

_**Amusement** _

After a few hours sleep and another feed, John rested his daughter against his shoulder, gently rubbing her back and hoping that she wouldn't throw up down his back again. As he was holding her he felt her twitch against him in a way he hadn't felt before. Just as he was about to start worrying she twitched again, a small noise escaping her.

As he realised what was happening he started to grin, moving her so she was nestled in the crook of his arm. When she hiccupped again John couldn't help the laugh that escaped him.

"Oh dear sweetheart, did you eat too fast?" 

At the next hiccup what could only be described as a giggle escaped him. It was the most bizarre and strangely adorable thing John thought he'd ever seen. He gently rubbed her tummy trying to hold in his laughs at the tiny hiccups, but when a hiccup was followed by a sneeze John couldn't help it and his laugh filled the room.

Forgetting everything he looked up for someone to share the moment with, his laugh dying out as he took in the empty room.

 

\--------------

 

_**Sadness** _

John sighed at the empty room, shifting his baby to try and ease her hiccups. He pressed a kiss to her soft hair.

There were so many special things that had already happened in the few days since she was born, he could only imagine all the firsts that were to come that he'd be the only witness to. All the moments that he'd be the only one to appreciate, all the things that Sherlock wouldn't see.

John's heart felt heavy as a rock. Already he knew that being her father was going to be an experience beyond words and beyond description, and the fact that her other father was choosing to miss out on that made him so sad. He was sad for Sherlock, sad that his inability to imagine a life different to the one he'd created for himself meant that he was missing out on knowing his daughter. He was sad for himself that he wouldn't have someone to share these experiences with. Mostly though he was sad for his daughter and the fact that she'd grow up without both her parents loving and supporting her.

He frowned and stroked a finger softly against her hand. He'd just have to love her and look after her so well that's she'd never _ever_ feel like she was missing out.

 

\----------

 

_**Pride** _

Surprisingly John was up and dressed when Mrs Hudson called in. He was sat in the living room reading a baby name book when he heard her familiar voice in the hallway. 

"Mrs Hudson," he smiled, pulling her into a big hug. 

"Oh John!" She smiled holding him at arms length. "I'm so proud of you."

He blushed deeply, uncomfortable with the compliment. "I didn't really do anything-"

"Yes you did," she said firmly with a squeeze if his arm. "Where is she then? Can I have a cuddle?"

John grinned at her, leading her through to the living room. "She's in here; she's just been fed so she's fast asleep at the moment."

He picked her up gently before handing her over to Mrs Hudson.

John smiled softly, watching Mrs Hudson take in the tiny baby in her arms. His smile grew as her eyes grew glossy.

"She's so beautiful John, she's just...lovely." She managed to tear her eyes away from the baby for long enough to look at him.

He grinned and looked down at the baby's sleeping face. "She is isn't she?"

Mrs Hudson nodded, sitting down carefully on an arm chair. "She's so tiny."

John chuckled as he sat in the chair next to them. "She didn't feel tiny coming out, believe me." He blushed again as he realised what he'd said. "Sorry Mrs H, er, too much info."

"Don't be silly," she chided him gently. "Was it ok, no complications or anything?" She asked smiling softly.

"It was...it was hard and felt like the most difficult thing I've ever done, but from what I'd heard beforehand it could have been worse so she wasn't too tricky, and as soon as I saw her it was all...Not forgotten but it felt far away." He shook his head softly. "Hard to explain."

Mrs Hudson smiled at him, squeezing his hand but before she could say anything Ms Archer appeared in the doorway. 

"I'm making tea, John, would you both like some."

"That'd be lovely thank you."

Ms Archer smiled and left them alone again.

"Who's that?" Mrs Hudson asked with a small frown.

"Mycroft's housekeeper," John smiled, stroking the baby's hand, thinking he'd never get bored of the feeling of her hand wrapping around his finger. 

Mrs Hudson tutted. "Don't go getting used to that, I still won't be your housekeeper when you come back to Baker St."

John's smile faltered. "I er, I don't know that that's going to happen" 

"Don't you want to come back John?" 

John sighed and rubbed a hand over his hair. "I'd like nothing more than to be there now, but Sherlock doesn't want that, he doesn't want a family."

Mrs Hudson scoffed. "That boy doesn't know what he wants John. He just isn't used to not knowing everything, and when things don't go his way he sulks."

"I think this is more than a sulk-"

Mrs Hudson shook her head. "He's sulking, and he's stubborn and he's not realised yet that he can't control everything."

She smiled softly at John looking down at the baby. "He just needs to let himself change his mind and want this, I mean how could anyone not want this beautiful baby?"

John smiled as his daughter slept, oblivious to the upheaval around her. 

"She _is_ beautiful isn't she? Can’t believe I helped make something so wonderful."

Mrs Hudson nodded softly. "She is amazing John. You should be so proud, you and Sherlock both.” 

John nodded wishing again that Sherlock could just feel a tiny fraction of what John felt towards their baby.

 

\--------

 

_**Panic** _

John was dozing in one of the comfy arm chairs in Mycroft's living room, lulled gently to sleep by the quiet noises coming through the baby monitor resting on the side table. 

He shifted in the chair elbowing the cushion behind him trying to get more comfy. Just as he'd achieved the perfect level of comfort he froze. A few seconds later his eyes flew open. Everything was silent, too silent. There was none of the little noises that he'd quickly grown accustomed to coming through the baby monitor non-stop.

As soon as he realised the monitor was silent he was up, the monitor next to him was still plugged in and lit up so the problem must be up in the bedroom. He flew up the stairs two at a time, ignoring the ache inside him, and dashed into the bedroom, his heart pounding in his mouth. He checked the crib, breathing a massive sigh of relief at the sight of his happily sleeping baby.

He took a few deep breaths before picking up the baby monitor, spotting the connection that wasn't fully in its socket. He rolled his eyes pushing it back in, his heart rate still high. 

He sighed dropping his head back against the wall, his eyes still on his sleeping baby. _Just the start,_ he thought. _Just the start of worrying about you all the time._ He smiled to himself as he moved closer to the crib, leaning down to kiss her head. _Worth it._

 

\-------------------

 

**_Accomplished_**

In between sleeping, feeding his daughter, changing her and generally looking after her John had been cramming as much info as he could find in the various baby books that he'd acquired into his head. He was trying to take in as much as humanly possible, the fear of fucking up driving him to read long after his eyes were burning. 

The evening before he was due to register the baby and have the next visit from the midwife. He felt a bit less panicked than he had at the last visit, it had only been a few days but he'd started to get the hang of it, started to see some patterns to his baby's behaviour. 

He dropped the baby name book and rested a hand on her tiny back. He'd read a few days ago that skin to skin time was good for the bond between them so he'd tried to get in a bit of time every day to just relax with her like this. He kissed her head softly as she nuzzled against him. She always seemed to sleep well like this, the familiar sound of his heartbeat under her ear. 

He yawned and reached out for his book, frowning as he looked at the cover. 'Myths and Lore of Olde England'. Definitely not what he'd meant to pick up from the pile of books in the library, must be Mycroft's.

He flipped it open carefully, thumbing through a few pages, the illustrations catching his eye. He flicked through a few stories, glad for some material that wasn't about baby poo, vomit or belly buttons (he'd seriously never even thought about umbilical cords as much as in the last few days).

He read one story carefully a line jumping out at him. 

_Their nests were said to be protected by lightning and whoever tried to steal the eggs or chicks were cursed; their houses would be struck by lightning and their hands would shrivel up._

He played around with a few things in his mind, trying out names he'd thought might work, ideas rolling around. He tried it out aloud a couple of times in a few variations.

"What do you reckon sweetheart? Like the sound of that?"

His daughter gave a tiny snuffle, and shifted against him which John took as a good sign.

"Hmmm, I think I like it too." He tried it again. "How about we sleep on it and see how it sounds in the morning? Yeah, I like that idea too." He smiled as her hand wrapped around his finger again.

"Big day tomorrow beautiful girl, you're going to become a proper registered person and Papa's going to get judged by the midwife again," he said in a cheery voice, having read that it was tone that babies enjoyed at the moment. "Yes I am, she's going to use that voice that suggests that Papa has no idea what he's doing. Maybe you can win her over for me? She seemed to like you last time but how could anyone not, you're amazing." 

He smiled at her, grabbing his phone to take another photo. He'd quickly got the hang of the rarely used camera on his phone, and had to resist the urge to photograph her all the time. He also had to fight the urge to send the pictures to Sherlock and demand the detective tell him how the fuck he could reject their beautiful perfect child.

He resisted, barely, instead he held his daughter close and focussed on just enjoying being with her.

\----------

 

_**Love** _

John smiled softly down at his daughter, she’d been fed and changed and was clearly sleepy as she lay in his arms. He hummed softly, not sure when he’d started doing that, but she seemed to enjoy it so he carried on. She yawned and shifted a little, seeming to fight the oncoming sleep. She blinked up at him revealing her pale blue eyes. He knew that all babies started off with pale eyes and that hers may well change but they were so like Sherlock’s he couldn’t help but think – hope, maybe - that hers might not change too much.

He leaned down pressing kisses to her forehead, watching as she eventually gave in to her tiredness and fell asleep. He watched as she slept, stroking a hand over her soft hair, her tiny features relaxed. 

Despite all the exhaustion, the panic, the worry, the uncertainty, what he felt most overwhelmingly was love. Love in a way that he’d never expected, never imagined, never pictured for himself. Just overwhelming, all consuming love. And when his heart felt like this, like it might burst with everything he felt he could understand why people chose this, why some people worked so hard to achieve this, and he felt more lucky than he ever had, here in the spare room of his ex lover’s brother, with no clue what he was doing, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

 

\----------------

 

**Day Seven**

John had fake smiled through the midwife's visit. He'd nodded and taken her advice in, even the bits that he thought he'd ignore. She'd cooed over the baby, been pleased with her weight gain.

John had swallowed his embarrassment at the midwife analysing his feeding technique and asking him about his nipples.

He'd been friendly and calm, at least out loud, and eventually the midwife had gathered up her kit and stood up to leave. John had shown her out the baby in his arms. The midwife turned on the doorstep.

"Being a single parent is very hard John-"

John bit his lip and stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"-but you're doing fantastically well so far. She's happy and healthy. Keep it up." She smirked at John's surprised look before setting off for her car.

\----

John settled his daughter into the car seat, still feeling great after the midwife's reassurances.

She was squirming, not enjoying being strapped into the seat, and John was trying to distract her by chatting to her as he tried to get her wiggly arms under the straps.

"Isn't this exciting sweetheart, going in one of Uncle Mycroft's cars again? Yes I know a taxi would have been just as good, but Uncle Mycroft can be a bit annoying about these things sometimes and you'll learn to pick your battles." He smiled and leaned down to kiss her nose. "You're right too, it's free which is nice, because you my darling are expensive." He grinned kissing her nose again. "Yes you are, you are, but worth every penny."

He picked up the car seat and the changing bag. "Come on beautiful; let's go give you a name."

 

\------------

 

Mycroft had purposely insisted that John use one of his cars picking a time when he knew John was tired to force the issue. He knew what time John had arranged the car for and he knew where he was going, which was why he was letting himself into 221b an hour before the car was due to collect John.

He took a deep breath not sure what state he'd find Sherlock in. He'd given his brother some space, had kept track of him from a distance but from the surveillance reports he'd hardly left the flat and had refused to let Lestrade or Molly in any of the times that they'd gone round. Mrs Hudson had been up to the flat a few times but rarely stayed long. 

Mycroft cautiously entered the living room. It had been cleared since Sherlock had destroyed it; he presumed Mrs Hudson had been involved in that.

Sherlock was nowhere to be seen in the silent flat.

Mycroft wandered toward the bedroom, the door open a crack. He opened it gently, a Sherlock shaped bundle under the covers, messy black curls and the edge of a blue dressing gown showing. For a second it reminded Mycroft of a 5 year old Sherlock, hiding under the covers when their parents argued.

Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock beat him to it.

"Leave."

Mycroft’s reminiscing ended, this Sherlock was a long way from the small child who’d only open the covers at the promise of a hug from his big brother.

"I just came to check on you."

Sherlock was silent.

"I know you're angry but I wanted to remind you, again, that John is registering _your daughter's_ birth today."

Sherlock remained silent. Mycroft stood in silence for a few minutes, Sherlock studiously ignoring him. 

"I suppose it'll be easier for John this way."

Sherlock shifted slightly but then stopped himself.

"This way when John finds someone to bond with he and your daughter can take his new mate's name and they'll all have the same family name. Convenient." Mycroft watched as Sherlock's posture stiffened, waiting for him to respond.

"Get. Out." Sherlock's words sounded like they could shatter like glass in a second.

Mycroft nodded even though Sherlock couldn't see him.

"It's a beautiful day," Mycroft said as he left the room. "I think I'll go for a walk through the park."

 

\-------------

 

Sherlock had stayed in his bed for 15 minutes after Mycroft had gone, wrapped in the duvet where Mycroft had found and left him.

His brother had a knack for getting under his skin, always had. Annoying bastard.

How dare he talk about John bonding with someone else? John was _his_.

Though right now he wasn't, and there was a really obvious reason why and Sherlock didn't have a clue what to do.

Sherlock dragged a hand through his messy hair. 

He sighed, pushing the covers off him.

Well, he sure as hell wasn't going to make it any easier for John to delete Sherlock from his life. 

John was his, and whether he was happy about it or not, the baby was his too, and he could make sure that no one could come in and erase him that easily.

 

\----------

 

John smiled at his baby, still squirming in her car seat as he sat in the waiting room of the register office. 

"Ok sweetheart, come on, you clearly hate it in there, let's get you in the papoose." John grinned at her. "When did I become someone who not only knows what a papoose is but actually uses one, hmm?"

He wrapped the fabric sling around himself, gently easing the baby into it, stroking her back to sooth her as she settled into the papoose. 

"There you go princess, better ey?" He stroked soothing circles over her back through the fabric. "Maybe now you'll have a little sleep?"

"Mr Watson?" The receptionist called out. 

"Um, that's me," he said standing up. "It's Doctor actually."

"My apologies Dr Watson, the registrar will be ready in a moment, you can go through to room 5."

"Thank you," he said gathering together the various bits that he now seemed required to take everywhere. He slowly made his way through to the room, dropping the car seat and baby bag in a corner. 

A few minutes later a friendly looking woman in her late 40s came through with a clipboard and several bits of paper attached.

"Hello there, I'm going to be your registrar today, is it just yourself and your little one here?" She sat behind the desk, facing John.

"Um, yes yep, just me, um, no alpha."

The registrar nodded sorting out the stack of papers attached to the clip board. "Rightio, so she's going to be a Watson-"

Just as the registrar was speaking the door swung open.

"-can't just interrupt an appointment-" John heard from the receptionist before the door was shut behind a tall, damp haired consulting detective.

"Holmes, actually."

John wasn't sure if he wanted to punch him or kiss him.

"You can't just barge in here Sherlock!" "Do you know this man?" John and the registrar said at the same time.

John sighed pinching the bridge of his nose as Sherlock dropped into the empty seat next to John. 

"Of course he knows me, he just called me by my name," Sherlock pointed out in the voice he used when something was really very obvious.

John turned in his seat to face him. "You can't just barge in here Sherlock!" John repeated, a hand instinctively going to his daughter's back, protective instincts in full force.

"Why not? She's my daughter too, I've got just as much right as you-"

"Oh! _now_ she's your daughter?! You're-"

"Would you like me to give you a moment? I believe my next appointment is here already so I could see then first..." The registrar asked, half out of her seat already.

John looked briefly at the registrar. "Thank you, I'd appreciate that."

The registrar smiled as she quickly shuffled out of the room.

As soon as the door was shut he turned back around. "What the hell Sherlock?!"

"She's my daughter too, as I keep being reminded, I have a right to be on the birth certificate." Sherlock's voice was studiously indifferent.

"You've changed your tune; you've wanted nothing to do with either of us all week. You didn't even respond to my message about today and yet here you are!"

"Is that not what you wanted? Why else would you tell me about today?" Sherlock was watching him with that inscrutable gaze of his.

"Yes, I want you here, I don't want to leave the alpha section of our daughter's birth certificate blank do I?!" 

John held her closer as she began to squirm, the raised voices disturbing her sleep.

"Then I don't understand what the problem is John? You want me to be here and I am here." Sherlock watched as the baby, mostly hidden in the folds of the sling, wriggled and mewled before settling at John's touch. The omega seemed to do it so effortlessly, such a natural move for him.

"I just...you didn't even tell me you were coming, you've not replied to any of my messages and then just here you are..." John sighed. "I...let's just get her registered shall we?"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "What have you chosen?"

"What?"

"Her name, what is it?"

"Oh!" John blushed. "Sorry, obvious.” John narrowed his eyes. “Try not to be too blunt if you hate it won't you?"

"John..."

"Fine! Her name's Lydia. Lydia Wren." John smiled inspite of himself. "First time I've said it to someone else... What do you think?"

Sherlock mulled it over for a few moments. "Lydia Wren Holmes... It's good. More unusual than John, less unusual than Sherlock."

John smiled at Sherlock, trying to ignore the way his stomach twisted hearing Sherlock call their daughter by her name, and calling her a Holmes no less. He dropped his gaze to the baby. "First time I've heard someone else say it. I think it suits her."

Sherlock watched John watch the baby for a moment before the registrar let herself back into the office.

"Ready to register her?"

John smiled and nodded. "Absolutely."

 

After all the forms had been filled in and John had a rolled up birth certificate in the changing bag declaring he and Sherlock the legal parents of one Lydia Wren Holmes, they stood awkwardly on the hallway of the register office. 

"Um, thanks," John said, not quite meeting Sherlock's eyes. "For coming today. You didn't have to, but it means a lot to me, and it will to her to. I know it's just a name and a piece of paper really-"

"It's fine. I'm lead to believe it's important for her future." 

"Mycroft?" John smiled as Sherlock nodded.

Just as Sherlock was about to say something John interrupted.

"Can you hold her for a sec?"

"What?"

John rolled his eyes. "I just need to pee. I don't fancy doing it with her strapped to my front, but it's fine I can put her in the car seat." John told himself as he started to unclip the papoose, that the abnormal amount of annoyance he felt at the way Sherlock was just staring blankly at him was just hormones.

Sherlock's hand on his arm stopped him.

"I can hold her," he said, holding John's gaze. "I was just surprised." He let go of John's arm, holding his hands out. "Come on then, I'm pretty sure that she's the only one allowed to wet herself."

John rolled his eyes, kissing the baby's head as he lifted her out of the papoose. "Support her head," he reminded as he gently handed her to Sherlock.

"Obviously." 

John watched for a moment biting his lip.

"Go," Sherlock sighed. "I'm not going to let her come to any harm in the few minutes you'll be gone, don't panic."

John nodded but still had to convince himself to turn around and head for the loo.

As John walked away Sherlock considered the bundle in his arms. His daughter. _Lydia Wren Holmes._ It was a good name. Really good. Would he have been able to choose something so good on his own he wondered? Definitely not. 

She looked like John he thought. Same face shape, though he could see some dark hair poking out of the tiny hat perched on her head, which was clearly from him.

She wiggled a little, a thin cry escaping her. John had only just left, what could she possibly be upset about or need? He rocked her very gently, but she was still unsettled. 

_This would be much easier if you could talk,_ he thought.

Carefully he moved her so she was more upright again, her head resting near his collar bone, one hand supporting her bottom, the other against her neck. As he held her she tucked her little legs up, her face burrowing against his neck close to where his alpha scent would be strongest.

She trusted him so instinctively. He wondered if it was simply because he was someone who was holding her securely, or if she could sense that he'd played a part in making her. Either way it was entirely terrifying to hold this teeny life in his hands, and for the teeny life to be so utterly sure that he'd look after her that she seemed to press closer to him and settle against him instead of screaming and wriggling away like would have been sensible. Just like her other father he thought, and look how well that was going.

He watched her carefully stroking his thumb against her neck, brushing against the soft tiny hairs there. How on earth could anyone think that he could look after something so entirely helpless?

She looked so different in just a week. Now she was pink and soft looking, so different from the scrunched, sticky purple form that he’d seen John push into the world. He wondered how all the changes had happened. Had it been an overnight thing, one morning she’d just been this soft and lovely thing where before she’s seemed not quite ready for the world? If she was this different in a week, how different would she be in a month, or a year?

As he considered this a group of teenagers came through the doors, noisy and bustling, being lead through the building by a slightly frazzled looking teacher, trying to impart her wisdom about local government to them. 

At the sudden noise the baby shifted against him, fidgeting and letting out a small cry clearly unsettled by the noisy group. Sherlock shot a dirty look in their direction, then turned so that his back was facing the corridor, wrapping one side of his open coat around the baby, holding her closer leaning down to quietly whisper what he hoped where soothing shushing sounds. He had no idea what to do if she had a full on screaming fit before John came back but putting himself between her and the group seemed like a good idea.

 

\----------

 

Typically the loo was in the furthest possible corner of the register office so despite John being as quick as he possibly could he was still longer than he would have liked. He was twitchy about leaving her with anyone, but he wasn’t even sure that Sherlock had held a baby before, never mind held one unsupervised. 

He was hurrying back to where he’d left them, half expecting Sherlock to have got distracted and left their baby in her car seat on her own. 

He managed a forced smile as a harried looking teacher offered him an apologetic look as she led a school group out into the corridor in front of him. As he followed them he could see where Sherlock was stood. He saw Sherlock spot the noisy group, heard the small baby cry, he was about to rush forward to sooth her when he saw the look Sherlock sent the group. John watched, an odd feeling in his chest, as Sherlock wrapped his coat over the baby, turning to put himself between the baby and the crowd. John was rooted to the spot as Sherlock leant his head down, seeming to whisper to the baby. 

John stared in astonishment for a moment, but then the group moved through the doors at the end of the corridor and John realised he was stood alone in the middle of the hallway. He really didn’t want Sherlock to turn around and see him just standing there, so as much as a large part of him didn’t want to disturb the scene in front of him, he cleared his throat and walked over.

Sherlock looked up, surprised that John was suddenly there. He looked back down at the baby who’d settled back against him. 

“She ok?” John asked, forcing a smile through the odd feeling growing inside his chest. 

“What? Oh, yes, fine, here,” he shifted his hold on her, holding her out for John to take back. “I um, need to go,” he tilted his head at the door. “Case.” 

“Right,” John nodded as her took her, pressing his lips between his teeth as Sherlock buttoned his coat up. “That it then?” 

Sherlock looked up. “What?” 

“Just...is that it? You swoop in, sign some papers, hold her only when I ask you to and then leave?” 

“John, I don’t-“

“Nevermind, Sherlock. You should go.” He turned away from Sherlock to where the car seat was resting on a chair.

“John-“

“Just go.” John tried not to cringe at the pleading tone in his voice. “Thanks for coming today, your familial duty is done.” 

He tried to wrap the straps of the car seat over tiny flailing arms, tried to remind himself to breathe, tried to remember that here wasn’t the place to have it out with Sherlock, certainly not in front of their week old baby. He was doing really well until he heard Sherlock move closer to him. “Please,” he choked out, not really even sure what he was asking for.

He heard Sherlock still behind him, knew he was close, his alpha scent tantalisingly near, underlined with the scent of their child from where he’d held her. For a moment he thought Sherlock was going to touch him, and he knew he’d lose his tentative control if Sherlock did that, but before he could react he heard Sherlock step away from him. One quiet step was followed by another, then fast footsteps followed and when John made himself look around Sherlock was gone again.


	8. When I see stars I feel in your hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are so far from the same page they're practically in different books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> Oh my goodness, I sound like a broken record but I'm _**so**_ sorry for the massive delay in getting this out. I've struggled to have time to write (and have been very grumpy because of it!) and I've also struggled with getting this chapter going. I've written and deleted and rewritten and started again repeatedly and I'm finally fairly happy with this chapter and I also think I need to just post it and stop fiddling with it! Hopefully you'll enjoy it and I'm really hopeful the next chapter won't take so flippin long! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your kind comments and kudos on the last chapter. The response to this story has been amazing, and you guys have been like my own little cheer squad which I've appreciated so much more than I can explain. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, I own nothing and no-one, read the tags etc etc. 
> 
> Enjoy! x
> 
>  
> 
> \----------

**Day 13**

 

John tapped in the numbers before frowning at the computer screen. That couldn’t be right. 

He deleted what he’d just typed and started again, but the result was the same. He frowned and rubbed his tired eyes, tutting at the laptop. It had been a long week of not a lot of sleep and a lot of crying, not all from Lydia, so he thought he must have been doing something wrong. Just as he was contemplating whether a straight forward pen and paper would make everything make sense a voice disturbed him.

“Everything alright John?”

He jumped shifting in his chair to face Mycroft. “Fucking hell, Mycroft! You should wear a bell or something. I’ve just had a baby, I could’ve actually pissed myself.”

John smirked as he saw Mycroft fighting his own smile.

“Apologies.” He moved to fill the kettle. “Tea?”

“Umm...go on then, probably shouldn’t have tea at,” he squinted at the clock, “4am but I’ve forgotten what sleep is anyway so why not. Are you just getting home again?”

“Mmm, we had a delicate situation in - well, anyway, complicated. I considered staying at the office but decided I’d quite like to see my bedroom at least once this week.”

John nodded.

“Why are you up? Is Lydia ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, she woke up for a feed around 2 and I couldn’t get back to sleep after that, my brain’s been going non-stop so I thought trying to sort some of it out might help.”

“Has it?”

“No,” John rubbed his eyes again as Mycroft set a cup down in front of him, taking a seat opposite him at the kitchen island.

“What are you trying to do?”

“Just some sums, Sarah sent me all my parental leave info through and it doesn’t seem to work. I’ve been looking at flats, and childcare, and bills, and all the stuff that she’ll need and when I add it all up I’m left with about seven quid.”

“You know there’s no rush for you to move out of here don’t you?”

John nodded turning his mug around in his hands. “I know, and you know I appreciate everything you’ve done for us Mycroft, but...it’s not a long term solution is it? I need to be able to support Lydia and myself.”

Mycroft nodded. After a moment he spoke again. “You also know that Sherlock should be providing some financial support for you and Lydia.”

John sighed. “I’m not going to make him do that. He never wanted a baby and I’m not going to force him into a situation he doesn’t want. I’m also not going to let him think that just writing a cheque is enough, for me or her either. I think I might have to leave London, rent here’s going to kill me.” He felt his throat tighten at saying aloud the words that had been floating at the back of his brain for a couple of days.

After a silence Mycroft shifted in his seat. “Did Sherlock ever tell you anything about our parents?”

John looked up from the computer, not expecting the change in direction of the conversation. He shook his head. 

“Er, no, just that they’d both passed away a while ago.”

Mycroft softly turned his cup around. “They were an arranged bond, though it might be more correct to call it a forced bond. Neither of them wanted a mate, but my father’s family wouldn’t leave him to his life of academia and my mother’s family would tolerate her being a dancer when it was a hobby but wouldn’t allow her to pursue it as a career, as talented as she was.”

John watched intrigued by Mycroft’s story.

“I was the product of their bonding heat and the fact that there’s seven years between Sherlock and I should tell you volumes about their relationship. My mother never really came to terms with the loss of her promising career in ballet and her role as a mother, and my father’s increasing success just seemed to make things worse. By the time Sherlock was conceived Mother would spend weeks at a time locked in her rooms.”

Mycroft rubbed a hand over his brow. “When I was 13 I was sent off to boarding school and when I came back at Christmas Sherlock refused to talk to me. He’d never been there on his own with just our parents and the staff and I don’t think he ever forgave me for leaving him there. I’d always tried to look after him, but he resented me for it after that.” Mycroft sighed, seeming to bring himself back into the present. “I’m sure by now he has a long list of other things that he resents me for.”

John struggled for words for a few moments. "That doesn’t excuse how he's acted."

Mycroft put his cup down to stop himself from fiddling with it. “Of course not John, but please bear in mind that his example of a family growing up was a very fractured thing. Our parents tortured each other in various ways and ended up bitter and hating each other, with Sherlock and I pawns in the middle of it all. He might not realise that there are other options for what a family is.”

”I...it’s more complicated than that Mycroft.”

Mycroft nodded as John stood to put his cup in the dishwasher. As John was about to leave the kitchen Mycroft spoke. "Just...don't be too hasty about leaving London will you?"

"Don't think I can do anything hastily with a newborn in tow." With a forced smile he turned and left the room.

 

\--------

 

**Day 15**

Sherlock sighed as he turned away from the officer he'd just been berating for being an idiot, spotting a familiar shape leaning on an umbrella just behind the police tape.

"Go and tell that man to move on, he's interfering in a police investigation," he snapped at the officer he'd just been castigating.

"Piss off," the officer snarled as he stormed away leaving Sherlock to sigh again and approach his brother.

"What are you doing here?"

Mycroft held out a folder. "I'd like a favour."

"You usually have to do something to deserve a favour."

"Well, I am providing a roof over your daughter's head..."

Sherlock glared at him. "You chose to do that."

"Mmm," Mycroft said mildly with a tilt of his head. "Well no matter, I doubt John will be in London much longer to need my roof anyway."

Sherlock looked sharply at him. “What?”

"Favour, Sherlock," Mycroft said mildly, waving the folder slightly.

Sherlock scowled at him. "No."

Mycroft shrugged. "Fine." With that he turned and walked to the car, leaving a fuming Sherlock behind.

Sherlock frowned at the black car. Mycroft wasn't the only person John spoke to.

* * *

Sherlock found Greg talking to the officer Sherlock had been berating earlier in the day. Clearly he'd had his usual impact as the officer frowned and walked off before Sherlock reached them.

"Making friends again I see," Greg said, unimpressed.

“He’s an idiot.” 

“And you’ve been a grumpy bastard since John moved into Mycroft’s.” 

Sherlock ignored the comment. "What do you know about John leaving London?"

Greg frowned. "John's leaving London? When?"

"If I knew that I wouldn't be asking you would I?"

"So John didn't tell you he was leaving?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Maybe you misunderstood what you were told then?" At Sherlock's raised eyebrow Greg continued. "Fine, fine, maybe the person who told you misunderstood?"

"Hmm."

Greg looked at him carefully. "Maybe you should ask John?"

Sherlock snorted and stomped away to look at another part of the scene. Greg was an idiot.

* * *

Molly fidgeted nervously as Sherlock let himself into the morgue.

“Um, hi, Sherlock,” she mumbled smiling weakly, fiddling with some of the equipment she had been putting away.

“Molly,” Sherlock smiled at her in a way that he knew made her more likely to do what he wanted. “You’ve changed your hair.”

She blushed furiously touching her new fringe. “Oh, that, um, yeah, thought it’d be...fun.”

“It’s nice,” Sherlock smiled at her in his most encouraging way moving closer.

“T-thanks.” She continued fiddling with kit that had already been put away.

“Have you been busy lately?”

“What?” She frowned up at him.

“Busy,” he repeated as if he was speaking to a child.

“Oh, yes, um, fairly.” Her brow was furrowed as her answer came out sounding like a question.

Sherlock nodded and tilted his head slightly. “So you’ve not seen any friends lately, not seen John maybe?”

“Oh! Um...no.”

Molly turned to move away from Sherlock but he was quicker and moved in front of her. 

“Really?”

She shook her head, her lips between her teeth, eyes wide.

“That’s strange,” Sherlock said, eyes narrowed slightly, “because you smell like my daughter.”

Molly had a deer in the headlights look about her.

“And there’s what appears to be baby vomit on your cardigan.”

She huffed out a breath, seeming to sag a little. “Fine, yes, I saw him at lunchtime.”

“Did he ask you not to tell me you’d seen him?”

“No, I just…”

“What?”

“Just wasn’t sure I should.”

Sherlock regarded her carefully for a moment. “Did John talk about moving?”

“Moving?”

Sherlock could tell she was genuinely confused.

“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Just wondered if Mycroft had become too annoying yet.”

“Oh, um, no, I think, I think Mycroft’s not there very often,” Molly had moved to the sink, dabbing at the baby sick that Sherlock had pointed out. “I think he’s-” she turned around, trailing off when she saw Sherlock had gone.

* * *

Sherlock tracked Mike down to the canteen. _Obvious_ , he thought.

“Hello Mike.”

The man looked over his shoulder before turning back to his careful perusal of the biscuits and cakes in front of him. “Piss off.”

“I’ve not even said anything.”

“You don’t need to.” Mike turned around with a sigh. “You’ll want to ask something about John, I’ve not seen him since he had the baby, but we’ve text a bit. I think you’re a bit of a bastard. The end.” He turned back to the confectionery.

Sherlock watched him for a moment.

“So he’s not mentioned leaving London?”

Mike turned around with a big slice of cake on his plate. “What? No, John wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than London. He’s probably just flat hunting, give that he doesn’t have anywhere permanent to live and all that," Mike said with a significant look at him before he headed to the till, leaving Sherlock in the middle of the canteen.

 

\---------------------

 

**Day 17**

John huffed as he eventually wrestled the pushchair up the couple of steps and through the door of 221B, still not fully competent at moving it around without bashing into things while holding doors open one handed.

It seemed unnecessarily bulky to him but when he’d ordered it he’d been baffled by the fact that these things were now apparently no longer called prams and were now called _travel systems_.

Lydia didn’t seem that impressed by it either, much preferring to be in the papoose, but she needed to get used to it so he persevered.

He parked the pushchair in the hallway, popping the baby carrier part off the base. He knocked on Mrs Hudson’s door and waited. Then knocked and waited a bit more.

“Typical,” he sighed. The woman was never out and now that he’d dragged the _travel system_ into the house she wasn’t even in.

He huffed again heading back to the pram when he heard the upstairs door open. He turned to look up the stairs, seeing Sherlock’s outline in the dark hallway.

“Oh. Er, hi...I er, just thought I’d call in on Mrs Hudson, but she, er, she’s not in.” He knew he was babbling but couldn’t stop himself.

Sherlock stood still and silent for a moment.

“She’s at her sister’s again.”

“Right,” John nodded, standing awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs. “I should, er,” he turned to gesture at the pram. As he turned back Sherlock shifted slightly giving John a clear view of a very bruised eye and a blood soaked gauze taped to his temple.

“Fucking hell, Sherlock! What happened?” He started up the stairs but stopped as Sherlock held a hand out.

“I’m fine, just a knock from a would be hijacker.”

“That’s more than a knock! Have you had it looked at?” John felt like ice had been shot into his system at the thought of Sherlock out chasing criminals with no one watching his back. What if it hadn’t been whatever blunt object had been used? What if it had been a knife?

John let out an exasperated sigh as Sherlock shrugged in a way that clearly meant _’Obviously not._

“You might need stitches.” When Sherlock didn’t respond John rolled his eyes. “Let _me_ look at it at least?”

Sherlock eventually tilted his head. “Fine.”

John started up the stairs, wincing his way up a few of the seventeen steps. Before he could get too far Sherlock was in front of him taking the baby carrier off him.

“You’re flinching,” Sherlock said, eyebrows furrowed.

It was John’s turn to shrug now. “It’s nothing, I’m just a bit sore still that’s all, and that,” he nodded at the car seat, “is heavy enough without the almost 9 pound baby in it.”

Sherlock was still frowning but turned, baby carrier in hand, and made his way up to the flat, setting the car seat down on the coffee table.

John glanced around, half expecting the flat to look entirely different to when he’d been here last. It felt like it had been longer than just over two weeks. The flat mostly looked the same, bit less cluttered maybe, emptier. He moved through to the kitchen, pulling out the familiar first aid box. He put some ice in a glass and pulled out the least grubby of the tea towels.

He stopped in the doorway, watching for a moment as Sherlock peered at their baby as she wriggled in her car seat.

“She hates it in there,” John smiled sitting on the coffee table next to the car seat looking in at her too. He smiled softly at Sherlock before gently peeling the gauze off Sherlock’s temple, wiping it carefully with an antiseptic wipe.

"She looks different again," Sherlock said quietly.

"She's changing all the time, lots of change in ten days," John's voice was quiet and serious.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

“This is a complete mess. What did he hit you with?” John opened another wipe, holding Sherlock’s hair back gently as he used it.

“Part of a brick.” Sherlock’s voice was low, as close as he was to John’s face.

“You really should see a doctor.” John pressed a fresh dressing against the cut.

“You’re a doctor.”

John tried and failed not to smirk. “You know what I mean.”

Sherlock smiled at him.

“Here, hold this while I sort out the ice.” John said after a few minutes of cleaning him up as best he could.

Sherlock moved to hold the padding in place, but wrapped his fingers round John’s instead, holding them tightly. 

John looked up sharply, confusion on his face.

Sherlock watched John carefully for a moment before leaning forward fractionally, his eyes dropping from John’s eyes to his lips.

John didn’t push Sherlock away, and the detective leaned forward more, pressing his lips gently against John’s in a soft and tentative kiss. When John still hadn’t pulled away Sherlock shifted forward slightly, his knees sliding between John’s, the kiss becoming more certain. He slid the hand not wrapped around John’s up the omega’s neck, his thumb stroking along John’s cheek as he opened his lips to let Sherlock in.

John knew he should stop Sherlock, should push him away and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but he couldn’t. Instead, against all his better judgement, he wrapped his arm round Sherlock’s neck and pulled him closer deepening the kiss.

It'd felt like _so_ long and he missed Sherlock _so_ much. For a second everything felt like it had a year ago, like nothing had changed.

With impeccable timing a loud cry came from the car seat next to them, bringing back to John in startling clarity that it wasn't a year ago and that _everything_ had changed.

John pulled away from Sherlock, jumping up from where he'd been perched on the coffee table turning away from him as he looked at his watch.

"Shit," he mumbled, running a hand over his face. "I, she-" he swallowed and took a breath. "I need to go, she needs feeding." He moved back toward the car seat but before he could pick it up Sherlock grabbed his arm.

"You can feed her here, you don't need to leave."

John shrugged his arm out of Sherlock's grasp. "I need to _go_."

"John-"

"No Sherlock! I don't have time for this." With that he picked up the car seat, ignoring the aches and pains as he descended the stairs.

Sherlock followed close behind, dressing gown billowing as he ran down the stairs. "John, wait, please."

"I can't do this now Sherlock, I need to get her home."

"Mycroft's house isn't your home."

John let out a humourless laugh as he struggled to clip the car seat onto the pushchair base. "No, it isn't, thanks for reminding me."

"You don't have to leave London though."

John shook his head as he snapped the seat in place. "You are unbelievable."

"What?"

"You can't do this Sherlock. You can't kiss me and mess with my head and then say that." He leaned down to check the straps of the seat before turning it backward as he headed to the door.

"I didn't intend to 'mess with your head', but I don't want you to leave-"

"You don't get a say Sherlock! _'If you do this, if you choose her, there can't be anymore us'._ " John shouted throwing Sherlock's words from less than three weeks ago back at him, words that had been torturing him for 17 days. "That's why you don't have a say in whether I stay in the city I love but can't afford, or move away. None of what I do is anything to do with you anymore."

The pitch of Lydia's crying increased as the voices raised and John sighed leaning forward to unclip the restraints, carefully lifting her free of it. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I'm sorry." He rocked her gently, her wailing easing slightly as he comforted her, his back to Sherlock. "We'll be at uncle Mycroft's soon."

"John," Sherlock began, his tone cautious. "It'll take you half an hour to get to Mycroft's at this time of day, just feed her here, I can leave if you prefer..."

John closed his eyes taking a slow breath, anger still thrumming through his system, along with an underlying amount of embarrassment about the kiss. He rubbed softly at Lydia's back feeling her trembling with tears, the sound making his heart ache. As desperate as he was to leave Lydia couldn't wait and that was more important than his awkward feelings.

"Fine," he managed through gritted teeth, still not facing Sherlock. "You don't need to go out; I'll use my old bedroom."

"Ok," Sherlock said, stepping away from where he'd been at the foot of the stairs, hating that John wouldn't look at him as he carefully carried their baby up to the room that John had rarely used in the last 2 years.

Sherlock heard the baby gradually quiet, the low murmur of John's gentle voice drifting down the stairs.

Eventually, when Sherlock thought he might go insane with knowing John was just upstairs but that he couldn't go to him when all he wanted was to be near him, he heard the creak of the stairs and then John was in the living room, Lydia held upright as he tapped her back softly.

"I made tea," Sherlock said before John was even fully in the room.

John watched him carefully for a moment.

"Sherlock-"

"It's just tea."

John stood where he was for a moment before shaking his head. "I can't Sherlock, I need to get her back for a proper sleep and I've got...things I need to do."

"We should talk." Sherlock tried to ignore the slightly desperate sound of his voice.

John didn't respond for a moment. "And what exactly should we talk about?"

Sherlock nearly winced at the cold controlled tone of John's voice. He struggled for an answer for a minute before John interrupted him.

"Exactly Sherlock, _exactly_. You know _what_ you should be saying but not _why _. Once you figure out what we should be talking about _then_ we can talk."__

With that John carefully carried Lydia downstairs, Sherlock freezing at the top of the stairs. 

"I don't want you to leave London." 

__"We've talked about that, that's nothing to do with you. Try again." He opened the door and turned the pram backwards more smoothly than he'd managed before._ _

__"John, please-"_ _

__"You know where I am if you can figure out what we should talk about."_ _

__With that the door clattered shut leaving Sherlock confused and alone again._ _

__

__\-------------------------_ _

__

__**Day 19** _ _

__John handed Greg a second beer before settling himself on the sofa again. Lydia was asleep, Mycroft was out and there was some kind of sport on tv. All the ingredients for a happy evening in. Apart from that John couldn’t stop thinking about Sherlock and clearly couldn’t concentrate on the game either._ _

__“What’s wrong with you? You’re all fidgety, I can’t concentrate on the game,” Greg frowned at him._ _

__“What? Oh, sorry, it’s nothing, I...it’s just…”_ _

__“Spit it out,” Greg said rolling his eyes._ _

__"Sherlock kissed me."_ _

__"What? When? Tell me you whacked him or something."_ _

__John fidgeted some more, avoiding Greg's eyes. "Well...not exactly." At Greg's raised eyebrow he continued. "I sort of kissed him back."_ _

__"Really? Why?"_ _

__"I don't know, I just- I miss him, and for a second it felt like everything was normal again."_ _

__"What did he do?"_ _

__"Nothing really, it was only a few seconds, then Lydia started crying and I had to feed her and then Sherlock wanted to talk but he didn't really know what about, and I was embarrassed and angry so I left."_ _

__Greg shook his head softly, his friend looking more miserable than he'd seen him for a while. "Why were you embarrassed?"_ _

__"Because...Because I kissed him back."_ _

__Greg watched John squirm for a moment not totally sure how to approach such an emotional topic. Beer and rugby and what was on the front page of The Evening Standard, those he could talk about all day. Even a discussion about pregnancy and babies he managed ok. This was more complicated. "Does it mean you...want to get back with him?"_ _

__John frowned running a hand over his face. "This was never...it was never about not wanting to be with Sherlock, I've wanted that for longer than I should admit probably."_ _

__"But...?" Greg promoted gently._ _

__"But...but I want more than he wants to give now." He sagged back against the cushions. "Before I could convince myself that just getting to be with him was enough, y'know? We had the work, and the flat and my heats," he felt himself blush, "and it didn't matter that I was in love with him and that he wasn't in love with me because I was _with him_. But now there's Lydia, and I could no more be away from her than I could grow wings and fly." He frowned, unconsciously stroking over his still softly rounded tummy. "And he doesn't want her so..." He shrugged in a way that was clearly more casual than he felt._ _

__"So...kissing him?"_ _

__John threw a remote at his friend. "Was like poking at a scab, you know you shouldn't, and it hurts, but you do it anyway." He shook his head again. "Fucking hell, I've turned into a teenager mooning over their first boyfriend, we're meant to be having a drink and watching the game, sorry mate. Here," John flicked a pizza menu at him. "Order something from that while I go and check on her. In fact," he said standing up, "order two, I'm always hungry at the moment."_ _

__

__An hour later, Lydia settled for a while longer, an old Bond film on tv and half a pizza left Greg turned to John._ _

__"You were wrong before."_ _

__"What's that?" John asked, not looking away from the tv._ _

__"About Sherlock not being in love with you. He's head over heels for you mate."_ _

__John froze for a moment before shrugging again, not looking away from the tv. "It's moot now isn't it? Not enough remember?"_ _

__

__\-------------_ _

__

__**Day 21** _ _

__

__The case was obvious. How the old woman hadn't figured it out herself Sherlock didn't know._ _

__She'd cried as she'd told him about her missing jewellery, family heirlooms she'd called them. Sherlock had actually felt sympathy for her, and had explained with more tact than usual that her omega son had been stealing from her to feed a drug habit. He'd expected more crying at that point, but surprisingly she'd seemed to pull herself together a little._ _

__"You must think I'm a dreadful mother for not realizing by myself," she said eventually, wiping her eyes. "Do you have any children Mr Holmes?"_ _

__Sherlock shook his head automatically before stopping himself. "Er, yes, actually, I do, I have a daughter." He realized it was the first time he'd staked his claim on her like that._ _

__"How lovely," the old woman said with a sad smile. "You and your mate must be very proud. How old is she?"_ _

__Sherlock considered the question for a moment before he spoke. "Three weeks today."_ _

__"Oh, congratulations. She's too little to be causing you much trouble I'm sure." The lady eased herself out of the chair._ _

__"Having children is such a strange thing isn’t it?” She said as she reached the door. “They come so easily to we alpha/omega couples, almost without a thought, but once they're here and you’re used to them it’s hard to imagine a life without them. Even with the awful conversation I'm about to have with my son I wouldn't be without him. You know, he and his siblings have been my biggest challenge and my greatest achievement all at once." The old lady smiled at him. "Forgive an old lady’s rambling, you don't need me telling you about the delights of parenthood, you've got all that to find out for yourself without my nonsense. Thank you for your help Mr Holmes."_ _

__Sherlock nodded as she left, her words rattling through his head._ _

__He turned to grab his phone from the arm of his chair. He thought he might have an idea of what he and John needed to talk about now._ _


	9. I'll be a thorn in your side, for always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All, 
> 
> Firstly, thanks so much for all the awesome comments and feedback on the last chapter, it seriously makes my day every time I get a notification, so thank you, I really appreciate it! It's so surreal but awesome to me that people are reading and enjoying something I've written. Thank you guys for being such brilliant cheerleaders :D
> 
> I took a teeny tiny break (like 2 hours) from this story to write a bit of fluff, was good to get it out of my head and not into this story, because I don't think this story is really in a place to have much fluff (but maybe just a teeny tiny sliver of it). 
> 
> Anyway, ramble ramble, hope you like this chapter, I hopeful to not keep you waiting too long for the next one, but I know I always say that, and it is coming up to Christmas so lots more festive activities going on which might take up a bit of writing time.
> 
> Right, so, on with the story, hope you like it. As usual, I own nothing and no one etc etc. 
> 
> Thanks and enjoy! :-D
> 
>  
> 
> \-------

**Day 24**

 

John groaned as he rolled over, cracking one eye open to look at the clock. He felt like he’d only been back in bed for five minutes since last time he’d been woken up by the sound of Lydia crying. The clock said it had been 2 hours and 8 minutes but he was pretty sure it was lying.

He rolled onto his back rubbing his hand over his face pressing his cold finger tips into his eyes for few seconds, hoping that would help with the burning feeling in them. Before he could finish convincing himself to get out of bed he realised that the crying had eased off and he turned his head toward the monitor checking it was still lit and functioning. He could hear a few snuffly noises but the crying had ended so he listened out for a few minutes before deciding that she’d settled herself down and drifted back into sleep.

He woke up with a start, a loud cry over the monitor bringing him to his feet quickly after a glance at the clock; 2 hours and 31 minutes since he’d last got up. Longer than usual. He yawned as he made his way down the hall, starting to speak before he reached the doorway, hoping his voice would sooth her a little.

“Don’t worry sweetheart Papa’s on his way,” his jaw popped as he yawned again. “I know you don’t care right now princess, but for most people ten to five in the morning is a _bit_ early for a Saturday-”

He froze in the doorway blinking at the sight of Sherlock holding Lydia rocking her softly as he slowly paced the room.

“It’s also a bit early to be breaking into people’s houses.” His tone had hardened. He crossed his arms and tilted his head. “What are you doing here?”

“You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts.”

John sighed. “And that didn’t get across that I didn’t want to talk to you?”

Sherlock moved closer to John, Lydia’s crying picking up again. “I changed her when she first started crying and that settled her down a little bit, but I think she might need feeding now.”

John took her carefully from Sherlock, looking up at him. “You changed her?”

Sherlock nodded, not mentioning that he’d had to look online for how to do it properly and to find out what some of the bits laid out next to the changing mat that rested on top of a dresser were.

John sighed and sat down in the rocking chair. “We aren’t done talking about why you’re here before five a.m you know, but I need to feed her first and apparently that’s best done in a calm environment so we’ll have to put that conversation on hold.” He settled into the chair, speaking soothingly to Lydia as he got the cushions and blankets how he and Lydia liked them.

“Should I wait elsewhere?” Sherlock asked, shifting slightly uncomfortably, the sight of John feeding their daughter making him see an entirely different side of John to those he was used to.

“If you’re not going to go home then you can wait wherever you like.” John’s tone was soft, but Sherlock understood that was more to not disturb Lydia than a reflection of John’s feelings toward him.

When John didn’t look up at him Sherlock quietly left the room heading down to the kitchen. He knew Mycroft was away on a conference so didn’t worry about waking him up as he filled the kettle and got out the tea making bits, not that he’d have worried about him anyway.

Knowing he’d be waiting a while he wandered through to the living room, taking in the changes in the rooms since he’d been here last, long before John had moved in. He picked up a book filled with brightly coloured cartoon animals, rolling his eyes at the things the animals were supposedly chatting about. He picked up a digital camera that he recognised as John’s, turning it on and flicking through some of the pictures.

They were almost exclusively of Lydia. Her sleeping mostly; in John’s arms, some close ups of her in the baby carrier that Sherlock had seen him wearing, in her Moses Basket. There were some pictures of her with other people; Molly grinning as she held a tiny wrapped up bundle, pink face the only part of Lydia showing, Mrs Hudson teary and proud looking, a few pictures of Greg holding her cautiously while pulling a face at the camera, even a couple of photos of Mycroft holding her.

Those ones made Sherlock feel unaccountably resentful of Mycroft. Mycroft didn’t look awkward, as he’d have expected Mycroft to. He looked like he knew what he was doing, comfortable, at ease holding her. John and Lydia were _his_ , Mycroft had no right to look so comfortable holding _his_ daughter, especially when Sherlock had barely held her himself.

He frowned and flicked through a few more of the photos. He smiled despite himself at a picture of John and Lydia. He thought Mrs Hudson might have taken it, given the way it was slightly out of focus, and how the camera was at an odd angle. None the less, the photo was...lovely. John was sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, holding Lydia in his lap as he leant over and pressed a kiss to her tummy. He could see John’s smile even though his face was hardly visible. He looked so happy, so perfectly at ease with the tiny child in his lap. Sherlock turned off the camera and put it back on the shelf. He frowned and messed with some of Mycroft’s carefully ordered books to make himself feel better.

He was back in the kitchen reboiling the kettle when John appeared still in his pyjamas, baby monitor in one hand.

“I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

Sherlock nodded. “I’m making tea, do you still have decaf?”

“Sometimes but I think I’m going to need caffeine for this conversation,” he said sliding onto one of the tall stools at the kitchen counter, neither of them speaking until Sherlock slid a cup of tea across to John, sitting opposite him.

“Why did you break in at 5am on a Saturday?”

“Well, I actually broke it at 4am, but I suppose that’s not your point.”

John sipped at his tea and didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t return my calls.”

“No.”

Sherlock sighed; John wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

“And I don’t think it’s really breaking in, this is my brother’s house after all.”

“Do you have a key?”

“No.”

“Then it’s breaking in.”

They fell into silence again for a few moments.

“Someone asked me this week if I had children, I almost said no, without thinking about it, before I corrected myself." He looked at John carefully but ploughed on when he didn’t respond. "I'm annoyed that all the plans that we made and the future I imagined for us is no longer going to happen."

As John opened his mouth to interrupt Sherlock carried on.

"Please let me finish. I'm annoyed but...there isn't anything that I can do to change things back to how I wanted them-"

"This wasn't my plan either Sherlock," John said before Sherlock could stop him, his tone irritated.

"I know that, but I meant what I said when I said that I don't want you to leave London, and I know I don't really have a say in that," he carried on quickly before John could interrupt again, "but I want you in my life and you not being in London will make that harder."

John sighed looking at Sherlock. "It's not just me though Sherlock, this whole thing hasn't really been about just you and I for a long time."

"I know that too. I'm Lydia's father whether I wanted to be or not and whether I'm happy about it or not-"

"Don't sound so thrilled about it," John said sarcastically.

"John-"

"No. No. I just...she's amazing. Lovely and perfect and beautiful and it hurts to sit here and listen to you talk about being her father as if it's some terrible millstone round your neck." He forced himself to keep his voice low. "If you don't want to be in her life then you don't have to be."

"But that's the point John! I'm her father, regardless of what I think about it, it's a fact."

"Just because something's a fact doesn't mean you have to do anything about it Sherlock!"

"I want you in my life."

"This isn't about me!" John sighed, his tone exasperated. "I'm not just me anymore! You can't just want to be with me and accept that Lydia comes too, you've got to want us both."

"I don't even know her-"

"She's your daughter, that should be enough!"

"It's different for you John! You carried her, she grew inside you, you had constant physical knowledge of her for months, even when you thought you weren't keeping her. She lived and grew and moved inside you. I had one staticy glimpse and the occasional feel of her under your skin. I thought we weren't keeping her so I didn't _think_ about her-"

"You didn't _want_ to keep her Sherlock!"

"I know! But that's not one of the options now. I'm just saying that I don't know her, through my own actions, but how can I want something I don't have any idea about?"

"You said there couldn't be any us if I picked her, and I did," John said quietly.

"I...I was shocked, upset, John. I asked you during the pregnancy how you felt about the adoption, and you...you said it was what you wanted too. It's what I thought was going to happen and you blindsided me.” Sherlock hated admitting his weaknesses, even to John, but he thought if he didn’t make John understand how he was feeling he might just lose him for good.

John shook his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I didn't expect it Sherlock. I had no idea how intense it would be." He spoke softly twisting his mug in his hands.

"Labour?"

John shook his head. "No, well, yes. That _was_ intense. The hardest thing I've done, ever, and while I was doing it I thought that nothing could be worth that kind of pain, and then all of a sudden she was there, and she was...perfect and I couldn't believe the amount of love that I felt...and when we said goodbye to her I felt like my heart was shattering and I couldn't do it." He looked up at Sherlock who was watching him closely. "I told you once that I didn't think I could live without you, but I _know_ I couldn't live without her."

Sherlock watched John for a moment. "I don't understand how you feel but I understand-"

John opened his mouth to interrupt but Sherlock carried on.

"-but I understand being surprised by your feelings. I was surprised by you."

John held Sherlock's gaze, ignoring how his throat tightened.

"I still want us John."

John shook his head. "I don't trust you. Not with me and definitely not with her."

Sherlock's frowned. "I would never hurt her; you can't think that badly of me?"

"I know that, but I certainly don't trust you to put her first," he held up a hand to stop whatever Sherlock was going to say. "And you can't talk me out of feeling like that Sherlock, you have to earn trust."

“What do I need to do?” Sherlock asked reaching out for John.

John shook his head, pulling his hands back out of Sherlock’s reach. “I don’t know Sherlock; I think you’re going to have to figure that out for yourself.”

When Sherlock didn’t say anything John pushed himself off the stool. “You should go, she’ll be awake again before I know it and I should get some sleep.”

Sherlock nodded and John followed him out to the hallway where Sherlock pulled on his coat.

“Oh,” he said just before he reached the door. “Here, I bought this for Lydia.” He handed over something wrapped in a John Lewis carrier bag as he opened the front door. “I hope she lets you get some sleep.” With that he was gone, leaving John holding the bag.

He closed the door and wandered upstairs as he opened the bag, frowning as he pulled something unexpected out of it. He set the item down on his bedside table, picking up his phone.

**It’s an owl.** \- 04.04.14 05.56

_Press its beak. - SH_ \- 04.04.14 05.56

John picked it up again pressing its beak, his frown slowly turning into a smile as the rubbery owl glowed a gentle yellow colour.

_Get some sleep. - SH_ \- 04.04.14 05.57

 

\-------

 

**Day 26**

 

John looked around the small room, Lydia snug against his front in the baby carrier. He pressed a hand to her back, holding her slightly closer.

"It's, um...cosy?" John said, it coming out more like a question than a statement.

"It is!" The estate agent nodded. "It's really cosy, super efficient for heating and keeping it tidy, and since it's just you and the little one you don't really need a lot of space do you?" Her grin was unnervingly fake.

John nodded a little. "Well...yes, but I thought I'd asked to look at two bedroom places?" He looked around the pokey room as the estate agent walked through to the tiny kitchen.

"Oh it is," she grinned again, turning down a tiny hallway to a bedroom that had a double bed squeezed into it and no other furniture. "Here's bedroom number one, and here-" she opened a door to what John was sure was just a walk in cupboard, "-is bedroom two."

"Oh..." he looked into the cupboard. "It's er...it's got no windows?"

The estate agent shook her head. "No, and isn't that ideal for a baby's room, no need for one of those pricey blackout blinds!"

"Umm..." he looked around the tiny bedroom and cupboard. "I don't think this is for us, shall we go on to the next one?"

"Of course!" The fake grin was still in place.

 

The next one was worse, if that was possible. Just as tiny as the first one but with flickering electrics and a worrying smell to go along with it.

"Um...no," John said with a shake of his head. "How about the next one?"

 

The next one had definite kerb appeal. John stood outside, pressing a kiss to Lydia's hair as he looked up at the converted Victorian house.

"So the flat here is lovey, it's ground floor- handy with a buggy - two bedrooms, small garden," the agent was still grinning as she opened the door to a bright hallway that opened into a relatively spacious living room, a neat kitchen visible through an arch.

"Sounds promising," John said, looking around before turning to shut the door. Stopping in his tracks as the door connected with a smart black brogue.

John looked up, rolling his eyes. "Sherlock, what are you doing here?" Sherlock brushed past him, walking through to where the estate agent was stood in the living room.

"Very nice," he said, looking around.

"This isn't a group viewing," the agent said, fake smile only faltering slightly. "If you'd like to make an appointment-"

"Of course I don't want an appointment, I'm here now. This is very nice," he said turning to John. "Shame it used to be a crack den."

He turned away going through to the kitchen as the estate agent gasped.

John turned to her. "Is that true?"

"The property was, um, involved in a police investigation, but it's been fully refurbished since then-"

"Well they'd have had to to get the blood stains out of the walls." John turned towards Sherlock's voice where he was still in the kitchen poking at things, before turning back to the agent, his head tilted and eyebrows raised.

"Oh, er, there was um...a _little_ violence here-"

"Oh yes, just a little bit of multiple murder," Sherlock announced as he strolled back into the living room.

"Right," John sighed turning around and heading for the door. "Next one."

 

"Terrible," Sherlock said before they could get inside. "Black mould and the foundations are unstable. Some houses on this road have had asbestos found in them too."

John rolled his eyes and turned to the agent. "Next," he sighed.

 

John looked at Sherlock outside the next place.

"Highest burglary rate in this part of London"

 

The next two fared no better due to one being below a flat currently inhabited by a death metal band and the other being above a fried chicken shop - John had figured that one out on his own.

"That was the last one, wasn't it?" John asked the agent who nodded, fake grin long gone. He sighed and rubbed at Lydia's back where she was starting to fidget. "Well, thanks, I'll er, I was going to say I'll be in touch but I won't be. Thanks for your time though."

The agent nodded and stalked off leaving John and Sherlock outside the fried chicken shop.

"Well done," John said, frowning at the detective. "You’ve successfully put me off every flat that I can afford in the area." He began walking away, Sherlock quickly following after him and dropping into step next to him.

"Would you rather I hadn't and you end up living in a former c den?"

"Obviously not, Sherlock!" He turned and pushed through the door of a quiet looking cafe, ignoring Sherlock following him in. He ordered a cup of decaf tea and made his way to a quiet corner with comfortable chairs where he unhooked the baby carrier, and was fishing a mewling Lydia out of it as Sherlock sat opposite him, placing his tea on the table while holding on to his own coffee.

"Then I don't understand what the problem is John?"

John sighed as he carefully pulled Lydia's padded outer onesie off, settling her down to feed before she could start properly screaming.

"The problem is," he said sharply before taking a breath and swallowing his annoyance down, stroking Lydia's hair to remind himself why not to just let his anger out at Sherlock there and then. "The problem is, that I need somewhere to live, and you just turn up - I'm not even going to ask how you knew where I was - and shoot all of them down-"

"With good reason!"

"Yes with good reason, but I'm still back to square one now!"

Sherlock watched him for a moment. "Has Mycroft asked you to leave?"

Rolling his eyes again John shook his head. "No, no he hasn't, he's said we can stay as long as we like, but that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"Staying with your brother is not a long term plan."

"I know he's annoying-"

"For fucks sake Sherlock, that's not even close to the problem! _I_ should be providing for my child, not relying on her uncle to feed and house us both. I need to find my own place, and if nothing else, today's disastrous venture into what I can afford in London has shown that staying here is going to be impossible."

Sherlock's head jerked up sharply. "You can't be thinking seriously about leaving London?"

"I don't want to, but you saw those places today, they're what I can afford and I wouldn't put a dog in some of them, never mind a baby, never mind _my_ baby," he said looking down at the contented child in his arms.

"You could afford Baker St."

"Yes, but there were two of us paying the rent then, and Mrs Hudson was giving us a ridiculously good deal, and I didn't have to think about things like childcare costs and new clothes every 3 months and all kinds of baby kit that I'm apparently going to need." He carefully shifted Lydia to his shoulder, rubbing her back gently. "Shhh," he whispered gently to her as she fussed. "I know you're not done." He kissed her face softly before settling her back down. "That all adds up Sherlock." He reached down for his tea, leaning back with a huff when he realised he couldn't reach it.

Sherlock leant forward to pick up John's cup handing it to him. "John...I can give you money if that's all this is about."

John shook his head, carefully resting his cup within easy reach on the table. "I don't want your money Sherlock."

"Well it wouldn't really be for you, would it? It'd be for Lydia."

"Sherlock."

"I'm just saying, John, that as much as it's your need to provide for her, it's my right to do that too, she’s my daughter as well."

"Don't do that."

"What?"

" _That_. Get all 'my daughter' about things."

"But she is."

John frowned at him.

"I don't understand. You want me to be in her life, but then you complain about me calling her my daughter."

"It's not you calling her your daughter that's a problem Sherlock, I just want you to mean it, I don't want you to use it to make a point."

Lydia started fidgeting, squirming in John's arms before sneezing twice. John grinned at the surprised look on her face as he held her close to him rubbing her back again. "Are you done sweetheart? Hmmm, or are you just faking like yesterday?" She did a little yawn and pressed her face against his neck, nuzzling slightly as she settled. She was dozing off within moments and John was grateful that she'd settled so easily and that he wasn't going to have to try and calm a screaming baby in this quiet coffee shop with Sherlock watching him. He pressed a kiss against her hair, taking a deep breath of her baby scent, familiar and unique at the same time.

He stood up carefully. "Here," he said leaning toward Sherlock. "Hold her while I get some food." He carefully handed her over to him before heading for the counter.

Sherlock stared down at his sleeping daughter, still baffled by the fact she was his. He moved her round until he was holding her like John had, her head resting on his shoulder and his hand under her bottom. She snuffled and shifted, trying to press her face against him but whining as she got a face full of Sherlock's scarf. Holding her carefully he pulled the scarf out from under her, leaving her head against his collar, watching as she wriggled a little, her cheek pressing against his neck before she settled and seemed to drift back to sleep.

He leaned back in the chair, holding her carefully. She was so small. Amazing that such a tiny thing could have such a massive impact on their lives. He still couldn't fathom that the child in his arms was the same one inside John just a month ago. He hated not feeling like he knew what he was doing, what he was supposed to do, how to fix this situation.

John smiled as he sat down, dropping a plate with a sandwich on it onto Sherlock's knee. "You don't look like you've eaten enough," he said sitting opposite him with his own (bigger) sandwich.

"Thanks," he said, shifting the plate to the arm of the chair but not touching it.

John ate in silence for a moment. "I've not seen her do that with anyone else."

"What?"

"That," he nodded gesturing to his neck. "How she likes to get really close there. She's not been doing it long, but...only with me so far, I thought it might be an omega thing." John shrugged. "Maybe it's a parental thing."

Sherlock looked down at her. "You think she knows I'm her alpha?"

John shrugged again. "Not exactly, but...she doesn't do it with Mycroft or Mrs Hudson and they're more familiar to her so there must be something that marks you out."

Sherlock didn't say anything for a moment.

"I can hold her if you like, while you eat your sandwich? Eating one handed can be tricky."

Sherlock shook his head picking up half the sandwich but not eating any of it. "How did you choose her name?"

"What?" John frowned, not expecting the question.

"Her name," Sherlock replied.

"Um, well, Lydia I just thought was nice, strong but pretty, interesting history, no odd connotations or anything. I just liked it, thought it fit."

"It's not what I expected you to choose," Sherlock said taking a bite of the sandwich.

"What did you think I'd go for?"

"I don't know, something top ten maybe."

John smirked. "She's half you, I didn't think top 10 would really work for her."

Sherlock smiled. "What about Wren?"

"I picked up a book at Mycroft's by mistake. Some old book about lore and mythology. I was flicking through it and read about the mythology behind Wrens and it felt...fitting."

Sherlock nodded, but as he was about to ask John to tell him about the myths his phone beeped and he carefully fished it out one handed.

"Ah, case."

"Right," John nodded, and Sherlock felt like he could see the barriers come down.

"John-"

"It's fine," he said a tight forced smile on his face and he half stood to scoop Lydia out of Sherlock's arms, stroking her hair as she squirmed a little before settling again.

Sherlock stood, feeling awkward in a way he wasn't used to. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe. I'll text you." John didn't look up at Sherlock.

"John..."

"You'll probably be working on the case tomorrow anyway, I'll text you," he replied, still not meeting Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock nodded anyway. "I'll text you when I've solved it."

John nodded only looking at him briefly. "Sure."

Sherlock stood awkwardly for a moment before eventually turning and leaving the cafe as John buried his face against Lydia’s hair, telling himself he was seeking the comfort of her scent and not looking for the what was left of Sherlock’s scent.

 

\-----------

 

**Day 29**

 

"The owl was for Lydia."

John cracked one eye open to find Sherlock stood next to his bed eyes on the owl.

"She likes it dark," he grumbled pulling the covers over his head. When he'd not heard Sherlock leave he pulled the duvet down a fraction. "Why are you here? Making breaking and entering a hobby?"

"Not breaking in, I have a key now," he said holding it up before dropping it back in his jacket pocket.

"Where-never mind, I don't want to know."

"And I'm here because I solved the case."

"I said I'd text you," John grumbled, feeling sleep slipping away from him by the second, despite his refusal to remove the duvet from most of his face.

"And you didn't, so I'm here."

John sighed. "And you woke me up because?"

"Lydia needs feeding."

John poked his head out enough to get a look at the baby monitor. "I didn't hear her-"

"I turned it off," Sherlock said striding out of the room.

 

Half an hour later John found Sherlock in the living room poking around in one of the cupboards.

"What are you doing?" He asked settling Lydia down on the playmat that had made its home in one of the bay windows.

"Looking for something of mine that I think Mycroft has. One of many things," he mumbled mostly to himself as he carried on rummaging.

John opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it and shook his head instead. "Will you watch her for a minute while I make tea?"

Sherlock nodded but carried on rummaging.

"Sherlock, when I say watch her, I mean you have to keep an eye on her, not just be in the same room."

"I will, you're still in here though so we don't both need to watch her, especially as she's unlikely to _do_ anything."

John decided not to pursue the argument in favour of getting some caffeine into him as soon as possible.

"I'll have one too," Sherlock called out as John left the room causing John to mutter darkly.

When he returned to the living room a few minutes later it was to the surreal sight of Sherlock lying next to the playmat, his head close to Lydia's.

"What are you doing?" John asked, putting both cups down on the coffee table.

"She seems fascinated by it, the yellow thing, I assume it's meant to be a bear but it's terribly incorrect."

John dropped into the nearest arm chair. "Of course it's incorrect Sherlock, if it were an accurate depiction of a bear it'd terrify her."

"But it's yellow. And that thing's green, and unidentifiable."

"It's a rabbit," John said sipping his tea.

"It's no such thing." Sherlock sounded mildly outraged.

"It is, it's got ears and big feet and stuff."

Sherlock snorted. "You're wrong, I think it's some kind of reptile."

"It's not," John moved to crouch on the opposite side of the playmat. "Floppy ears, big feet" he said pointing at them. "Bunny."

"Hmm."

"Maybe it looks more like one from underneath?" John said shifted slightly until his position mirrored Sherlock's, Lydia between them. "Maybe not," he half shrugged shifting to stretch out his legs.

Sherlock turned his head, watching John for a moment. "You didn't text me."

"You left."

"For a case, not because I was bored."

"I know," John nodded, eyes still fixed on the rabbit/reptile, hoping his flinch at Sherlock reading his reaction entirely correctly wasn't too visible.

Sherlock watched him for a few more moments, watched as he spun one the animals and watched Lydia's face as she focused on it before looking back at John.

"I don't want to waste your time John, nor mine, so just tell me if you and I are unlikely to ever be anything more to each other than Lydia's other parent."

John turned to face him more, one hand resting on Lydia's tummy, tickling her gently. He thought about what Sherlock was asking him, what he wanted, what was best for Lydia.

"I don't know Sherlock." John hated the look in Sherlock's eyes as he took in John's words. "I've never not wanted to be with you, but...it's like I said the other day. I don't trust you. Every time I think about you, I remember what you said at the hospital, I remember that you didn't want Lydia to even be born, and I can't just forget that." John looked away, down where their baby lay between them. "I can't let Lydia grow up with a parent who just reluctantly accepts her, it's not fair to her. I never want her to feel like...like an inconvenience or like she's not wanted. I already feel guilty for everything that happened while I was pregnant. Regardless of you and I, she has to come first." He looked up at Sherlock, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

Sherlock nodded slowly, taking in John's words. "Mycroft told you about our parents," he said eventually.

John nodded. "A little.

"So you know that I understand what you mean about reluctance."

John nodded again not sure what to say.

"I need to get to know her, I'm sorry that just being her alpha isn't enough for me to feel how you want me too."

John nodded. Logically he understood but emotionally he was sad that Sherlock hadn’t instantly fallen in love with her like he had.

Sherlock looked at his watch. “I need to go, I’ve got to meet Lestrade.” He moved to crouch as John nodded his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Why are you asking? Even if I say no you’ll break in again I’m sure.”

Sherlock smirked. “Not breaking in, I’ve got a key.” With that Sherlock leant down and pressed a fleeting kiss to John’s forehead, standing up before whirling around to duck down again, pressing an equally quick kiss to Lydia’s face.

“Laters.”

John tried not to grin as Sherlock left but gave in to the urge fairly easily, pressing a hand over his face. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ He thought. “Come on sweetheart,” he said, standing and picking Lydia up in one smooth move. “Let’s go out, Papa needs some air.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>    
> Oh yeah, I have tumblr now. I don't understand it yet, and I've done nothing on there yet, soooo, there's nothing for you to see, but anyway, here it is: wwwhatstories.tumblr.com :-D


	10. I'm all I'll ever be, but all I can do it try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Try - small word, lots of meanings
> 
> Try [trahy]  
> verb (used with object), tried, try·ing.  
> 1\. to attempt to do or accomplish: Try it before you say it's simple.  
> 2\. to test the effect or result of (often followed by out ): to try a new method; to try a recipe out.  
> 3\. to endeavor to evaluate by experiment or experience: to try a new field; to try a new book.  
> 4\. to test the quality, value, fitness, accuracy, etc., of: Will you try a spoonful of this and tell me what you think of it?  
> 5\. Law. to examine and determine judicially, as a cause; determine judicially the guilt or innocence of (a person).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> Firstly, the biggest hugest most ginormous sorry for how long this has taken me. I feel terrible that it's taken me almost a month ( _a flippin' month!_ ) to get this done, and I'm **so** grateful to those of you who have stuck with this story and are still reading it. I know you're probably not really interested in why it's taken me so long but it's been equal parts Christmas busyness (why does wrapping gifts and writing cards take _so_ long?!) and struggling with this chapter. The upside of struggling to get to grips with this chapter however means that I've got quite a lot of stuff written for the next chapter, so it shouldn't take as long to get the next one out, in fact if it does, then I'm going to slap myself because a month is really far too long!
> 
> Thanks all for the lovely comments and kudos, they seriously make my day every time. I'm still trying to get the hang of tumblr but if anyone wants to say hi on there I'm wwwhatstories.tumblr.com 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, apologies again for the time it's taken to get it out.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> \--------

**One Month**

Sherlock was trying. John could admit that. He was definitely making an effort.

He'd turned up on Lydia's one month birthday with a stuffed rabbit, that he pointed out looked much more anatomically correct than the one on her play mat, for Lydia and a box of fancy tea for John.

"Happy one month," Sherlock murmured putting two cups of tea on the counter next to John.

John smiled up at him. "Oh, er, thanks. You remembered."

Sherlock nodded sitting down opposite him. "Hard to forget."

John nodded turning the cup around. "It's gone fast hey?"

Sherlock nodded again before picking up his own cup and pressing it briefly to the one in John's hand. "To Lydia, and you for keeping her alive and well for a whole month."

John laughed, ignoring the way that Sherlock's gesture made him feel oddly affectionate toward him. "Cheers."

Even better than the fancy tea, John thought, was that Sherlock only complained four times that week about Lydia vomiting on his posh shirts.

\----

**Five Weeks**

It was rare for Mycroft to be home at all in the day, and rarer still for him to be home when Sherlock was there. He knew that Sherlock was visiting John and Lydia regularly, usually evidenced by some disorganisation of Mycroft's possessions, if not outright theft of them, but he hadn't seen him with John and Lydia more than a few times.

For this reason Mycroft came to a stop in the doorway to the sunroom, Sherlock was sat in one of the arm chairs with his feet propped on the coffee table, a medical book in one hand and Lydia lying along the length of his legs.

"That's a very expensive table you've got your feet on."

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder with his customary bored expression that he wore for any interactions with Mycroft. "Don't worry, it seems perfectly capable of holding my weight, though _you_ might want to be a little more cautious if you try it."

Mycroft rolled his eyes but moved closer anyway, leaning over to smile at Lydia.

"Good afternoon, Lydia. How are you today?"

Sherlock frowned at him closing his book. "What are you doing?"

"John said it's important to talk to her."

"She's 5 weeks old. I don't think she's going to tell you about her day, Mycroft."

"That's as may be, but John said it's important. What else would I say to her?" Mycroft’s tone clearly put across that the idea was something he was going along with even if he didn’t understand it.

"I don't know but asking about her day is ridiculous. Do you expect her to answer? 'Well Uncle Mycroft, I slept and ate and produced more waste than you'd think possible for a person my size, how was your day? One too many cakes again?'" Sherlock watched as Mycroft frowned, still focussing on Lydia, before Sherlock turned his gaze back to his daughter. His daughter who appeared to be smiling up at Mycroft.

"She's smiling," Sherlock gaped. "Has she...has she done this before?"

Mycroft looked at Sherlock briefly. "Not...I don't believe so. Where's John?"

"Shower," Sherlock said eyes firmly on Lydia. He pulled out his phone. "Do it again."

"Do what again?"

"Whatever you did that made her smile." Sherlock had the camera ready. "Do that again."

"I didn't _do_ anything, Sherlock," Mycroft said, frowning again.

As he did so Lydia smiled again and Sherlock snapped a picture. "It's you frowning," Sherlock grinned as Mycroft's resulting frown caused another smile from Lydia. "Brilliant, she'll be the smiliest child in London."

Before Mycroft could respond a bare footed John wandered in standing close behind the brothers.

"What's going on?"

"Lydia smiled when Mycroft frowned," Sherlock informed him, still watching her.

"She did?" John grinned. "She's not done that before. Do it again," John said with an elbow to Mycroft's side.

Mycroft frowned at being jostled opening his mouth to speak but being interrupted again before he could.

"Hey! You're right!" John grinned and scooped Lydia up. "Who's my clever, beautiful girl hey? Who thinks Uncle Mycroft's frowny face is hilarious?"

Mycroft frowned again. "I think it was just a coincidence."

John grinned at Mycroft. "Yeah probably," he said insincerely. "Lucky Uncle Mycroft, huh? First thing to make her smile."

Sherlock, who'd been smirking until that point, was suddenly straight faced.

 

Two days later John found Sherlock holding Lydia close to himself making a variety of faces at her. He tried to control his grin as he leant over Sherlock's shoulder.

"She's not a performing animal; she won't just smile on command."

Sherlock gave him a dirty look out of the corner of his eye, their faces close together. "I'm not trying to make her do anything."

John grinned at him, raising an eyebrow. "No?"

Sherlock shook his head slightly.

"So you're not jealous that Mycroft makes her smile?"

Sherlock's look grew darker. John couldn't help the wave of fondness that crashed over him, pressing his grin into Sherlock's shoulder. "Mmhmm."

"It doesn't mean anything. She's a baby, I saw her smile at the toaster yesterday," Sherlock said, his tone not entirely convincing.

John's grin grew and without thinking he turned his head and pressed a soft kiss against Sherlock's neck.

For a second John's brain was overcome by Sherlock's scent, the feel of soft skin under his lips and the minute shiver that ran through Sherlock, but before he could process any more his brain seemed to catch up with his body and he realised what he was doing, jerking his head back sharply, standing up and away from Sherlock, a hand over his mouth.

"Shit, sorry, I-" he took a few steps backward. "I shouldn't...I can't. Sorry." He rubbed his eyes turning away from Sherlock.

He hadn't meant to do that, the situation was complicated and messy enough without making things worse with careless touches and affectionate slips. John knew that regardless of how he felt about Sherlock things were still not fine between them, that there was so much still wrong between them and it could all be brushed under the carpet with kisses and touches but nothing would be resolved.

"John..."

"Sorry, I just, I'm exhausted. Forgot myself for a second." He turned offering Sherlock a tight smile.

Sherlock watched him carefully for a moment. "What would it take for you to forget yourself for more than a second?"

John shrugged. _If you choose her there can't be anymore us._ "I don't know."

"I'm trying."

"I know, but you're doing that for your bond with Lydia, not just to tick a box with me, right?" John raised an eyebrow at him.

Sherlock nodded before turning back to the baby. "Let's see if we can move some things around, that'll make Uncle Mycroft frown." He stood up, Lydia cradled carefully in his arms.

John smiled and rolled his eyes as Sherlock brushed passed him. "When I said we should talk to her I didn't mean you should start training her to torment your brother," he called after him.

\-----

**6 weeks**

It had been a rough night, followed by a rough morning, so when John heard Ms Archer answer the door he sighed down at the baby in his arms, who had screamed anytime he put her down in the last 12 hours, resulting in almost no sleep for him and a tired, stressed out Lydia.

"If that's Daddy then maybe you'll go to him for a cuddle, hmm? You like him. Then maybe Papa can have a shower?" _Or maybe I could forgo the shower and sleep for half an hour,_ he thought as he paced between the living room and kitchen.

His day dreams of a long hot uninterrupted shower were broken by an unexpected voice.

"Hello Johnny." 

He spun round to find a grinning Harriet heading toward him.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" He frowned, shifting Lydia carefully to one side as Harry pulled him into a hug. 

"Well, I thought it was about time I met my niece," she grinned at him, one hand still on his side. She gave him a firm squeeze before stepping back a little. "Look at you; you've gone all soft and omega-y." 

John couldn't stop the blush that he could feel spreading across his cheeks. "Well I did just have a baby a month and a half ago..."

"No, no, I didn't mean it badly, it's sweet," she grinned but it didn't quite meet her eyes.

John managed not to roll his eyes at her. It wasn't sweet, and she did mean it badly. He knew her well enough to know that she'd always use any opportunity to score points against him and ever since John had presented as an Omega, Harry, a beta, had teased him mercilessly about how sweet and meek omegas were - not really what a 14 year old boy with military ambitions wanted to hear.

"Tea?" He asked, taking a deep breath instead of voicing any of his thoughts.

"Lovely!" 

John led an overly chipper Harry into the kitchen, carefully getting the tea started one handed. 

"So this place is a bit fancy," she remarked as she looked around the kitchen before dropping onto a bar stool. "Fallen on your feet here." 

John frowned at her. "Yes Harry, staying with my ex's brother is definitely falling on my feet." 

"You know what I mean," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You could be doing a lot worse." 

He didn't look at her this time, willing the kettle to boil faster. 

"I can't believe you've had a baby," she carried on. "I really never thought you would. I bumped into Simon Harper, do you remember him? Tall blonde alpha, year above you at college-"

John remembered him. Simon was the worst kind of old fashioned alpha, the kind that believed they were better than everyone else, as if their knot gave them some kind of superiority.

"-Anyway, I ran into him the other day and he was asking after you, think he still held a torch for you. He couldn't believe you'd had a kid...think his teenage crush might have ended then, you know how alphas are about other people's kids."

John kept his back mostly to Harry as he made the tea, forcing himself to take a deep breath and ignore Harry's cattiness. He'd perfected the technique for ignoring Sherlock's sharp comments but it was different with him; Sherlock was brutally honest, even if it was painful to hear, whereas Harry would say whatever would hurt, even if she didn't believe the things she said.

"Sorry," she said, and John knew her well enough to hear the undercurrent in her words. "That was tactless."

"What?" He asked placing the cup on the counter in front of her before shifting Lydia in his arms, ridiculously grateful to have some kind of buffer between them. 

"Well you'll be looking for another alpha won't you? You don't need me and my big mouth making you think no one will want you now you've got a kid, not _all_ of them are like that I'm sure, you'll meet someone." She smiled sweetly at him.

John rolled his eyes as he leant on the counter opposite his sister. "Harry, I just had a baby six weeks ago, an alpha is the last thing on my mind, and I'm sure will be for a very long time. Besides, Sherlock was never _my_ alpha so I'm perfectly capable of getting by without one."

"Of course you are," Harry said, sipping at her tea, her tone as insincere as he'd ever heard it.

"How are things with you?" He asked, keen to deflect the conversation from him and his lack of alpha.

"Yeah, yeah, good, mostly, still a bit hit and miss with Clara, things still a bit up in the air with work too, but...yeah, not too bad." 

John nodded, he knew things were bad, could tell from how she was and how she'd been last time she'd seen him. She didn't have the shakes this time but she was wearing a lot of perfume and the bags under her eyes that she’d attempted to hide suggested that things were far from 'not too bad'. 

Silence stretched between them, John knowing Harry was lying but devoid of the energy to confront her about it, and Harry aware of that but not able to talk about it. 

"So can I have a hold then?" Harry asked, fake smile back on her face. 

"Umm...you can, yeah, she's been screaming every time I've put her down since yesterday though, so don't take it personally if she cries."

He carefully handed her over to Harry, reminding her to support Lydia's head. Miraculously Lydia didn't scream, settling for squirming in Harry's arms instead. John breathed a small sigh of relief, watching as Harry smiled down at the tiny girl. 

"She looks like you did when you were born." Harry's smile seemed genuine for once, her gaze firmly on the baby, taking her in. 

John smiled. "Poor thing, she'll grow out of it." 

Harry gently stroked Lydia's hair. "His hair though." 

"Yeah, lucky girl there."

Harry smiled at him before returning her gaze to the baby. "Things really over between you and him then?" 

John shrugged, lips pressed together. "I'm not sure. Sort of, mostly yes, but..." He couldn't even answer that question in his own head, never mind try to vocalise it to his emotionally unstable sister.

"But?" 

"I don't know, it's complicated."

"Is there someone else?"

John rolled his eyes. "Harry, come on, when would I have had time to meet someone else?"

"I don't know do I," she shrugged. "I thought babies slept a lot."

John snorted. "No, no, there's no one else. Still too bloody attached to that madman to even consider someone else really," he said, ducking his head at that revelation.

Sherlock had let himself in with a cautiousness he'd developed after waking Lydia up a week ago with his usual door slam. John had been furious and Sherlock was keen to avoid hearing the rant about waking a sleeping baby again so he quietly made his way through the house toward the kitchen where he could hear low voices.

He'd stopped outside the kitchen as he heard Harry's unfamiliar voice ask John if things were really over between them, and frowned as John had said mostly yes. He knew he should make himself known but he wanted to hear what else John said, and was rewarded for his patience when he heard John say he was still attached to him, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. Mostly yes, indeed.

He quietly backtracked to the edge of the hallway before calling John's name in a low enough tone that he wouldn't wake Lydia if she was sleeping downstairs. He strode through to the kitchen stopping as if surprised to see Harry, which was slightly true, he was surprised to see her holding Lydia. 

"Oh, hello, sorry, didn't realise _you_ were here." He carried on into the kitchen dropping the paper bag he'd been carrying onto the counter. 

"I didn't think I'd see you either." Harry's fake smile soon slid off her face as Sherlock eased the wriggly child from her arms, shifting her to her favoured position with her cheek pressed against his collarbone. 

"I wasn't finished!" Harry spluttered, her tone making Lydia flinch. 

"You should probably keep your voice down, John gets most upset when Lydia's disturbed." Sherlock moved to the other side of the counter stroking Lydia's back as she lay quietly against him, seeming to quickly settle into a light doze.

"She's my niece-"

"And my daughter-"

"Enough!" John whispered harshly holding his hands up. "This is the first time she's settled since this time yesterday, I won't have her upset by you two having a pissing contest." 

Sherlock seemed to ignore John's warning and moved to the bag he'd dropped on the counter, Lydia still settled under one arm. Harry merely looked put out.

"I've brought some food but only really enough for two," Sherlock said, pulling things from the bag one handed. 

"It's fine, I'm leaving anyway." Harry's tone was bitter as she stood up and pulled her coat on.

"Harry, you don't have to leave-"

"There's little point me staying if you're just going to let _him_ waltz in here and take her off me."

"She's not a toy and _he_ is her father."

"I've never even seen her before!" Harry said, gesturing around her.

"Well, you knew where I was Harry; you knew when she was born."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, sorry I couldn't just drop everything and come and see you." 

John took a deep breath, pinching his lips between his teeth. "You know that's not what I was saying." 

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her handbag. "Whatever John, I don't even know why I came." She headed for the front door and John trailed after her. 

"I'm sorry you're upset Harry, but I'm glad that you came to see Lydia."

Harry nodded looking down at her feet before sighing and looking at him. "I'm glad to have seen her too John, but...I can't believe you're just letting _him_ back into your life this easily, after how he's treated you!" 

"It's not _my_ life that I'm letting him into, Harry, it's Lydia's, he's her _father_." 

"Oh as if he cares about her, he probably just sees this as some big exciting experiment into family life. What out when he gets bored?" She held his gaze, eyes blazing with anger.

"Right," John said, unfolding his arms. "That's enough. Good to see you, as always. Say hi to Clara from me if you see her." With that he swung the front door open ushering Harry out.

He closed his eyes as he rested his head against the heavy front door, eyes burning with lack of sleep. His sister had the knack of wrapping her harsh words around something you were genuinely concerned about, leaving you unable to dismiss them as just angry words.

"You know that she's wrong don't you?"

He snapped his head up as Sherlock's voice reached him.

"I'm not going to get bored."

"You don't know that," John said tightly before moving closer, stroking a hand over her hair. "I can't believe you've got her to sleep, she's been restless all night and she's screamed every time I've put her down, I've not even been able to go to the loo without her screaming. You're here for 5 seconds and she's asleep."

Sherlock smiled at him. "You should sleep, I can look after her until she needs feeding again."

John quirked an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Really."

John thought about it for a second but supposed there wasn't a lot that Sherlock could get wrong if John was still in the house with him so nodded slowly. "Ok, but wake me up if you need anything." He turned toward the stairs but then turned back. "And let me know if she won't settle at all -"

"Go," Sherlock said rolling his eyes as he turned to walk away from the stairs leaving John torn between following after him and dashing up stairs as fast as possible to make the most of every second. His barely open eyes made him choose the latter.

\----------------

**8 weeks**

John stood in the hallway of 221B, doing what could only be described as dithering, a word which he'd not heard from anyone other than his great aunt, and she'd been dead for 10 years.

Sherlock was in his pyjamas and dressing gown, Lydia in her preferred position with her head half tucked under Sherlock's. 

"Everything will be fine John." 

John nodded. "Yeah, yeah, of course, it, yes. The travel cot’s all set up, and you remember how to heat the bottles up? And that they need to stay in the fridge until you need them? And-"

"Yes, yes, I do have the ability to retain information. Go now or you'll be late."

John sighed and nodded. "Yep, right, ok, well I won't be long, it's just a check up and there's-"

"Go!" 

"Fine! Fine, I'll see you both in a couple of hours," he moved to press a kiss to Lydia's cheek, looking up at Sherlock, their faces close together, before pulling away and forcing himself out the door.

John tried not to panic about leaving Lydia for the first time. He could have taken her to the appointment with him, but Sherlock had offered, and it would be easier for him to get the check up over with quickly if he didn't have to see to a fussy baby part way through, and he wanted nothing more than to get it over with quickly, embarrassing as it could be.

And embarrassing it was. For the most part it had been ok, just a usual level of humiliation for an intimate exam, but when the doctor had started talking about birth control his face had burned bright red and he'd cited his lack of an alpha and having an 8 week old baby as surely birth control enough.

The doctor hadn't laughed and John had coughed nervously, shifting in his seat as he flicked through the leaflets about different options the doctor had presented to him. They'd decided on one that wouldn't interfere with his feeding Lydia and he'd left with an implant under his arm and instructions to come back in 4 weeks for a further check up and a discussion about heat suppressors.

He was still faintly mortified as he made his way back to Baker St, letting himself in. 

"Hi, sorry I'm a bit later than I said, I popped into Boots to get some bits for Lydia," he called out going up the stairs. "Has she been-" he stopped as he looked up, Mrs Hudson sitting in his chair, Lydia resting on her lap.

"Oh hello dear," she smiled. "Was your appointment ok?" 

"Fine thanks Mrs H. Where's Sherlock?"

"Oh he had to go out, got a call about a case." 

"When?" John asked, frowning. 

"About 11ish I think. Is something wrong John?" 

He'd not even managed an hour. John was quickly stuffing Lydia's things into the bag he'd dropped her off with. The travel cot would have to stay where it was. "Not with you Mrs Hudson. Thank you for looking after her, sorry you got left to it like that." 

"Oh it's no bother John, she's a little angel, she had a feed about 12." 

John quickly gathered most things up before tucking Lydia into her car seat.

"Thank you, I'll pop in for tea later in the week," he called, already heading down the stairs, fuming quietly.

"I'll make some biscuits. Shall I tell Sherlock anything?" She asked fiddling with the hem of her cardigan.

"I can only think of things you wouldn't want to repeat Mrs Hudson so no, thank you." With that he left slamming the door slightly harder than he'd really meant to.

 

John woke with a start as his bed dipped down, a familiar outline visible in the dark of the bedroom.

"Get out," he said, sounding more awake than he felt. 

"John-"

"No. No. I'm not talking about this now."

Sherlock carried on, clearly determined to ignore John’s instruction. "She was fine, Mrs Hudson-"

"I didn't leave her with Mrs Hudson!" John said sitting up, his voice a harsh whisper. "I left her with you!" 

"But Mrs Hudson is good with her-"

"That wasn't the point, Sherlock! The point is that I left her with _you_. The first time I left my baby with someone else and you just fuck off and leave her-"

"She was with Mrs Hudson, John, I don't understand-"

"Of course you don't, of course." John shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

"There was a case."

John nodded slowly. "And there always will be won't there?"

"Of course not-"

"I had to convince myself to leave her with you today, not because it was you, but because it was the first time I've left her with _anyone_ without me. I had to talk myself into it, tell myself that it'd be fine and that you've been trying really hard for weeks and that you'd get how important it was, for Lydia and for me." 

"John-" Sherlock began, resting his hand on John's arm only for it to quickly be shrugged off.

"No, Sherlock." He shook his head. "Do you know I still I have nightmares about someone taking her away from me? I am terrified of something happening to her, like some big karmic retribution for _ever_ thinking I could live without her." He stopped as his voice choked and his throat seized up, ducking his head so Sherlock couldn't see his face even in the dark room. He pressed his palms against his eyes, exhaustion and anger humming through his veins.

He kept his hands over his eyes as he felt Sherlock shift, hoping he was leaving and being proved wrong when the bed shifted again, Sherlock next to him, one long arm wrapping around his back.

"Nothing is going to happen to her." 

"You don't know that," John mumbled but didn't shrug Sherlock's arm away.

"I won't let anything happen to either of you."

John huffed. "You weren't even there today Sherlock."

"I'm sorry."

John's head shot up, brow furrowed. "What?" 

"I didn't know that you felt like that. I would have made Lestrade wait if I had."

"Am I hallucinating?" John frowned. "Did you just admit that you were wrong?"

Sherlock looked away and John thought he was probably rolling his eyes. "I'm trying to understand, John, these things don't come naturally to me." He sounded pained to admit that there was something he didn't understand. 

John nodded. "You should go, I need some sleep." He shifted slightly, breaking the contact between him and Sherlock. 

"John-"

"Please, Sherlock."

Sherlock stood up silently heading for the door but stopped with his hand on the door handle. "You can't just keep sending me away John, we need to talk sometime."

John scoffed. "That is rich coming from you."

"What?" Sherlock turned, hand still on the door handle.

"You're not exactly forthcoming with your feelings, Sherlock. I'm too exhausted by raising our child to analyse the nuances of what little you have said about this situation and to filter through all of your actions to pull some hidden meanings from them!"

Sherlock watched him for a moment before nodding briefly. "Fine, maybe you're right, maybe I've been ambiguous about how I feel, so let me make my position perfectly clear." 

He crossed the distance between the door and the bed bending so his face was close to John's in the dark. "I miss you. I was wrong. I hate that you and our daughter are here, with _Mycroft_ and not at home with me." He leaned even closer, his voice low. "And I hate that I've made you doubt my feelings toward you." He pressed close, his lips almost brushing John's. "I love you and of all the people I've disappointed in my life you're the only one that I regret." 

He leaned forward, cupping John's face between his hands, and pressed a firm kiss against John's lips, pulling back before John's brain could catch up and respond. 

"I hope that makes my feelings clear enough." With that Sherlock turned and swept out of John's room, the sound of the front door closing echoing through the quiet house.


	11. All the things you tell yourself offer no resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking about how you feel is all well and good, but what if you'd rather not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> Once again I beg your forgiveness for how long this has taken, I don't blame you at all if you hate me for being so hopeless with updating in anything resembling a regular way! This chapter's had me stumped in places, and I've written and rewritten bits here and there, but it's finally in some semblance of something I'm happy with, hurrah! 
> 
> Thank you all so very much for the continued support, the comments and kudos really make my day (/week/month!) every time. I still find myself surprised that anyone is reading something that I've written, never mind enjoying it also. Thanks to those of you who've cheered me on and listened to me whine about this chapter, I appreciate it so much! Ooh, also someone emailed me with some lovely feedback and asked about prompts, I tried to reply but sadly gmail had some kind of issue with your email address, so I'm not being rude, I just seem to not be able to reply, sorry about that! 
> 
> I'm slowly getting the hang of tumblr, so feel free to find me on there (wwwhatstories.tumblr.com) and I have an email address on my profile if anyone feels the urge to get in contact in various ways!
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoy the chapter, I own nothing and no-one. As always I'll try not to take too long with the next one! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! W
> 
>  
> 
> \---------

**8 Weeks**

 

The next day John couldn't concentrate on anything.

He'd overfilled his tea cup, underdone his toast and had tried to put two babygrows on Lydia, only realising when he'd struggled to pull the fabric over her already fabric covered arm and she'd squawked at him.

He thought maybe he was just tired, the middle of the night confrontation with Sherlock having kept him awake for hours afterwards, barely registering the passing time until Lydia's cries for her next feed dragged him out of his thoughts. However, even after having a nap Sherlock's words were still tumbling through his brain, last night's words combining with those from the night Lydia was born, both battling to drive John the most mad.

He'd tried playing games with Lydia to see if that would clear his mind of Sherlock's late night confession but his baby's smiley face had only succeeded in putting her other father more firmly into his mind now that her feature's were changing from a generic new born to have a little more personality - all John could see was Sherlock.

He picked up his phone repeatedly, hoping and dreading in equal parts that Sherlock would have messaged him and sighing when his phone remained stubbornly devoid of messages or calls.

After a few hours of driving himself mad, after Lydia had been fed and bathed and had a nap, he sighed and bundled into her padded outdoor onesie. "Let's go out before Papa drives himself bonkers waiting around for Daddy to appear."

 

\------

 

**9 Weeks**

 

Sherlock had not appeared that day. Nor the next, nor the one after.

Three days after his night time visit John gave in and text him.

**Even if you don't want to see me you can come and see Lydia.**

An hour later Sherlock had turned up just as John had finished feeding her, Sherlock gratefully taking her from him when the omega had wordlessly held her out to him. Sherlock held her close and pressed his nose against her wispy hair.

"She'll throw up on your coat," John warned with a smile as he sorted his shirt out, watching as Sherlock moved gently with Lydia.

"Don't care," he said softly, his face still pressed against hers.

John watched as Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, presumably getting a good hit of her unique scent. John knew how good that felt, the reassuring wellness that underlined the smell that was individual to their baby, the way it made the parental bond feel stronger, especially important in the first few months.

"You didn't have to stay away," John said carefully, still watching them.

"I wasn't sure you'd want me to be here."

John sighed and moved closer to Sherlock, his hand resting under Sherlock’s on Lydia’s back, his thumb stroking softly. "Whatever happens between us you're her alpha, you can _always_ come and see her. I want her to know you."

Sherlock nodded briefly. "I missed her," he said quietly, not quite meeting John's eyes.

"That's good."

Sherlock frowned before looking back at the tiny child in his arms. "Is it? It felt...not good." He’d berated himself for days about how ridiculous it was that he could miss this little person that he barely knew and that didn't really _do_ anything.

John smiled and nodded. "You don't miss things that aren't important."

Sherlock's expression was unreadable for a moment before turning back to his usual one. "Very true."

 

\-------

 

**10 Weeks**

 

They hadn't talked about what Sherlock had said the night after he'd left Lydia with Mrs Hudson.

John didn't know how to bring it up when his own feelings were so muddled, and Sherlock felt that he'd made his own feelings perfectly clear and there wasn't anything else he could say without repeating himself.

So neither of them brought it up, and things returned to the fragile sort of routine that they'd established.

Most days, except when there was a case, Sherlock would turn up at some point, sometimes with food or tea or nothing at all. Sometimes Sherlock would be full of stories that he'd regale John and Lydia with, other times he'd barely say two words. He was exactly as mercurial as John was used to, and in an odd way this comforted him. It didn't feel like an act. At first it had seemed like Sherlock had to talk himself into being involved in Lydia's parenting but gradually it began to feel more natural, less like something he was thinking about and more like something he was just doing.

And if it made John smile every time Sherlock held Lydia without a reason, then neither of them mentioned that either.

So they didn't talk about their feelings and everything was fine.

 

\-----

 

**11 Weeks**

 

Everything was not fine.

John stopped in his tracks in the middle of the cafe, pram taking up most of the space between the tables. He'd spotted Sherlock easily enough when he came in, but he'd not spotted his companion until he a little was closer to the table.

He'd not seen the man before, of that he was sure; he would have remembered someone as beautiful as that. The man was striking, young, well groomed, slim, tall, impeccably dressed. Definitely an omega, John could tell even from here.

He made something inside John want to shrivel up and hide, especially given the way he seemed to have captured Sherlock's attention.

He tried to turn around, flicking a glance over his shoulder as Sherlock grinned at the omega opposite him. It felt like it had been a long time since John had made Sherlock respond like that.

Not able to bare it, he turned to leave, but Just as did he over steered the pram crashing it into an empty chair, which in turn bumped a table spilling the occupier's coffee, the noise waking Lydia with a start causing her to cry.

"I'm so sorry," he said to the person at the table as he righted the chair, reversing the pram. As the person waved him off he turned and saw Sherlock and the omega watching him.

John blushed and reluctantly made his way to the table, Lydia still whimpering in her cosy seat. "Um, hi."

Sherlock frowned at him. "Were you leaving?"

"What? No, no, just, um, hard to steer that's all," he gestured at the pram, shifting awkwardly as he stood next to the table.

Sherlock kept frowning but said nothing, gently easing Lydia out of the pram unzipping her outer onesie, smiling at her even as she carried on mewling.

“Shall I get another chair?” John asked, shooting a confused look at the omega at the table with Sherlock.

“What?” Sherlock asked looking up at John and following his gaze. “Oh, no, Elliot was just leaving.” With that he turned his attention back to Lydia.

The omega, _Elliot_ , looked up at John, insincere smile firmly in place as he stood up. “Nice to meet you.” He looked back to Sherlock. “See you on Friday Sherlock.”

Sherlock smiled and nodded looking up from Lydia to Elliot. “Excellent, see you then.”

With that he was gone leaving a confused John watching after him.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?”

John, confused, turned to look at Sherlock before dropping his eyes to the empty chair. “Oh, no, any tea left in there?” He asked as he sat, nodding at the teapot on the table.

“Mmm,” Sherlock said with a frown, pressing his hand carefully to Lydia’s face. “Is she ill? She’s a bit hot and upset.”

John smiled at him as he grabbed an empty cup. “She’s fine, just a bit grouchy after her jabs today, and a bit hot because it was chilly when we left the house and Papa wrapped her up a bit too warm. Don’t worry.” John frowned a little as he lifted the teapot; it was full.

“What jabs?” Sherlock asked, still frowning as he pulled some of Lydia’s layers off til she was down to just one layer.

“Just some vaccinations, she wasn’t too thrilled with them, poor baby. Better than the alternative though ey?”

Sherlock frowned at the thought. Lydia wasn't allowed to get ill.

“Was, er, was Elliot, um, about a case?" He asked hiding slightly behind his cup.

"What? Oh, no."

"Oh...right."John knew he didn't have any reason to feel gutted about Sherlock having tea with a friend, but Sherlock didn't do friends, or at least hadn't before John. And John knew he had no right to feel so forlorn. After all, he was the one keeping Sherlock at arm's length, wasn't he?

"So how long will she be off colour?" Sherlock asked dragging him from his thoughts.

He smiled at the concern in Sherlock's voice. "She'll be fine, Sherlock."

Sherlock frowned at him before looking back down at Lydia who was a bit more settled without her many layers on but still whinier than was usual. He moved her round until she was closer to him and he pressed a kiss to her cheek, stroking her hair softly, whispering gently to her.

John watched them carefully, sipping his tea, trying to ignore his heart aching slightly at the sight.

 

\-----

 

**Week 11**

Lestrade looked up at the small crowd that seemed to be gathering just outside his office. He couldn't see much through the blinds but he frowned at the thought that it was probably something that would cause him _more_ paperwork. Looking for anything to distract him from the paperwork he was already drowning in he quickly got up from his desk and yanked the door open.

"What's going on out-" He stopped in the doorway surprised to see John in the middle of the gaggle of officers.

John threw him a sheepish grin and a shrug before looking down at his front where Lydia was fast asleep looking like a little angel.

Greg grinned and rolled his eyes as he moved toward the group of serious officers currently cooing over a baby.

"So are you here for a reason other than to distract my whole team?"

John grinned as the officers all reluctantly scattered back to their desks. "Partly that, partly to see if you had time for a coffee?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah, just let me finish a few things up. You'd better come in," he said nodding at his office, "before you start a riot with her."

 

20 minutes later they were sitting by the river, takeaway cups in hand. Lydia was still sleeping peacefully in the baby carrier, John trying not to drop bits of muffin on her as he and Greg chatted.

"So as much as it's always great to see you, did you want to chat about anything specific?"

"Hmm, not exactly, just...are you...is Sherlock on a case for you at the moment?" He avoided looking at Greg as he asked.

Greg frowned a little. "Nothing big no, not for almost a week or so. Why?"

"Oh, nothing really, he's just been busy, wondered what he was up to."

Greg turned more toward him, eyes narrowed. "I know it's a crazy idea, but you could just ask him?"

John rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Mmm, but it's not really any of my business is it? I'm not his mate, I'm not even his boyfriend, he can see whoever he wants."

Greg's brow creased. "I thought this was about _how_ he was spending his time not _who_ he was spending it with..."

"What? Oh I meant he can _do_ whoev- _what_ ever he wants- Oh why am I bothering?" He said at Greg's disbelieving face. "Fine, I met him at a cafe the other day and when I got there he was with some guy, an omega, I don't know who he was. I just wondered if it was case related..."

Greg nodded slowly. "Right."

"What?"

"You jealous."

"What?! Jealous? No. No, I just...wondered, y'know..."

Greg nodded again. "Right, yeah, course."

John rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"You should just ask him."

John sighed again stroking Lydia's arm as she stirred in her sleep. "I can't...he can do whatever he wants, I don’t have any say or anything, like I said, not my boyfriend. Don't look at me like that," he said to Greg's cynical look.

"Have you talked to him yet about it?"

John shook his head. He'd told Greg the bare bones of what Sherlock had told him in that late night conversation and Greg's advice had been to talk to Sherlock about how he was feeling, and had told John he thought it was bullshit when John had said he didn't know how he was feeling.

"You're always suggesting talking," John frowned. "What happened to not talking about anything, keeping it all inside?"

Greg laughed. "Yeah, that's worked well for both of us so far. I've got an ex wife and two kids living in France and you're asking _me_ who Sherlock's having coffee with..."

John barked out a laugh that startled Lydia awake. "We're a great pair aren't we?"

Greg grinned and nodded. "Oh yes. Now let me have a hold of her highness, my team will be green with jealousy if I go back smelling like her."

 

**\---**

****Week 11** **

Mycroft didn't react to Sherlock moving around the items on his desk, having accepted a long time ago that he'd have to rearrange quite a lot his office whenever Sherlock had been near it.

Sherlock dropped the file onto the desk, scattering some loose papers in the process. "There."

Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Thank you. I do hope you found out everything you needed to."

Sherlock however did not fight the same urge. "You're very tedious. Elliot Jones is fine, vacuous and idiotic but he doesn't know any of your precious state secrets so he's not the one tying to sell them. It seems the minister he's been fucking hasn't been indulging in any pillow talk so call off the firing squad."

Mycroft flinched slightly at Sherlock's bluntness before dropping the file into one of his desk drawers. "Thank you Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded turning to leave. Doing Mycroft's favour had taken more time than he'd thought it would, mainly due to the ridiculous amount of flattery and buttering up that the suspect had needed. He'd barely seen John and Lydia all week, the fact that he was even aware of that surprised him.

"Oh, one more thing Sherlock."

Sherlock paused, hand on the door handle, his back to Mycroft, but didn't say anything.

"I thought you might be interested to know that John's looking into his options regarding going back to work; his fully paid parental leave is ending soon."

Sherlock left without a word.

Half an hour later instead of arriving at Baker St he found himself in front of Mycroft's ridiculous house, letting himself in and listening out for whether John was home. He followed the sound of John's voice out through the sunroom and spotted Lydia lying on a blanket on the grass, John sat next to her. Lydia was on her tummy pushing herself up on her arms. John grinned and Sherlock could hear him praising her. He watched as John carefully rolled her from her tummy to her back and then back again, only moving to join them after the third roll when John left her laid on her back.

"Hello," John smiled up at him, squinting a little in the sun. "I wondered when we'd see you again; you're just in time for tummy time."

Sherlock grimaced as he did almost every time that ridiculous phrase was used dropping down to lie next to Lydia on the blanket. He grinned back as she gave him her own gummy grin and pressed a kiss to the hand she was waving about nearest to him before rolling over to blow a raspberry on her chubby thigh where it poked out of her summery outfit, making her laugh and squirm.

Laughing was a fairly new development and one that Sherlock had a deep fondness for; not only did it make Lydia happy but it almost always made John smile too.

"Mmm, busy week."

John felt his stomach drop a little, part of him wanting to ask what had made his week so busy, but the bigger part of him not wanting to hear what, or _who_ , Sherlock might have been occupied with.

"Oh...right." He forced a smile out before turning his attention back to their baby.

Sherlock frowned at John's reaction, intending to ask him about it but finding that when he opened his mouth something else entirely came out. "Do you actually _want_ to go back to work soon?"

John looked up at him feeling out of practice with Sherlock's habit of starting a conversation halfway through. "What?"

"If you actually want to go back then that's your decision of course but if you don't want to yet-"

_Mycroft_ , John thought with a shake of his head. "It's not really about if I want to or not though, is it? I can't afford to not work for very long. I can't stay here forever, I need to think about what next-"

Sherlock didn't want to have this conversation again. “Do you want to go back to work?”

“Sherlock, it’s not that simple!”

Sherlock rolled onto his side. “Pretend it is. Do you want to go back to work? That’s all I’m asking, do you want-“

“No!” John said, exasperated. “Ok? No, I don’t, of course I don’t, I want to be with her, I don’t want to hand her over to a stranger every day.” He rested his chin on his hands, his elbows on his knees as he looked down at Lydia and Sherlock lying on the blanket. “There’s so much more to consider though.”

Sherlock propped up on one elbow, holding one of Lydia’s toys up with the other hand to dangle it over her, smiling as she waved a hand towards it, not quite co-ordinated enough to reach it. “Will you please just let me help you?” He asked looking back up at John, his voice carefully controlled. As his bond with Lydia deepened, his alpha instincts to provide and protect grew and John's refusal of all of his offers of help felt like torture.

“I don’t need your help.”

“John-“

“Sherlock, please don’t, I don’t want this discussion again. I’m having a good day, Lydia slept for 5 hours in a row last night and it’s sunny, please just leave it.”

Sherlock watched John for a moment spotting the tension in his stance. “No wonder you’re so smiley today,” he said, turning towards Lydia and picking her up, “5 hours sleep, that's very good.” With that the conversation was dropped.

 

Or at least it was dropped with John.

On his way home Sherlock tapped out a message.

 

****I need you to arrange the paperwork for me, as discussed. – SH** **

_And in return? – M_

Sherlock sighed. 

**One favour. - SH**

_I’ll have the paperwork couriered over as soon as possible, it'll take a few days. – M_

****Just take it home with you – SH** **

_You need to sign them - M_

********That’s never stopped you before – SH** ** ** **

******** ** **

********\-----** ** ** **

******** ** **

**********Week 12** ** ** ** **

******** ** **

“I don’t understand all this,” John said holding some of the many bits of paper that had been in the envelope Mycroft had given him.

Mycroft tucked the bottle of scotch back into the cabinet having half filled his glass. “You really should discuss this with Sherlock.”

John pinched his lips together before speaking. “I’m tired of being given that advice. I'm asking _you_.”

“What does it look like, John?” Mycroft leaned against the sideboard.

John flicked through the papers, the header from a fancy sounding law firm at the top. “It looks like your brother doesn't listen to a damn word I say.”

 

**********We need to talk** ** ** ** **

_Busy. Lydia ok? - SH_

**********She’s a bit confused about why she suddenly has a bank account and half your trust fund.** ** ** ** **

_Case should take another 2 days, will talk then. - SH_

******** ** **

John rolled his eyes. _Fucking ridiculous man,_ he thought.

******** ** **

********\-------** ** ** **

******** ** **

**********Week 12** ** ** ** **

******** ** **

Sherlock looked up from his position on the sofa as the stairs creaked.

“Case over?” John asked, lingering in the doorway.

Sherlock nodded sitting up, surprised when John came and sat next to him. “Where’s Lydia?”

“I called in to see Mrs Hudson and Lydia fell asleep, thought I’d leave her down there while we talk.”

Sherlock nodded again, tightening the belt on his dressing gown.

“What is this, Sherlock?” John asked pulling a big envelope from inside his coat.

“You know what it is.”

John nodded. “Why?”

“You won’t let me help.”

John shook his head slightly. “Sherlock, we’ve talked about this so much. _I_ don’t need your help.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for _her_.”

“What?”

Sherlock rubbed a hand through his hair. “Being with you is best for _her_. You not worrying about going back to work when you don’t want to is what’s best for _her_. That’s why I gave the money to her not you, because I want what’s best for her.”

“Oh.” John slumped back against the arm of the sofa, his urge for an argument quickly dissipating.

“I’m not trying to buy you or her or any of the other deeply pedestrian thoughts you've got about it," Sherlock added in a bored voice.

John frowned softly. “So...just a good thing to do for your daughter?”

“Mostly,” Sherlock answered with a head bob.

John tried not to smile but failed. “I don’t suppose there’s much I could do about it now anyway is there?”

“Not really,” Sherlock smiled.

John huffed a reluctant laugh out and shrugged off his coat. “You’re impossible.”

“So I've heard,” Sherlock smiled back. “Are you making tea?”

John threw a cushion at him as he stood up. “That’s exactly what I was doing,” he said sarcasm dripping from every word.

When he came back a few minutes later Sherlock hadn't moved from the sofa so John put both mugs on the coffee table taking his previous seat again.

"Are you ok?" He asked when Sherlock hadn't spoken for a few moments.

"I was just thinking." Sherlock nodded "I think it was this week a year ago that you last had a heat...I can usually see the outcome of every situation, but I didn't see her."

Sherlock could see John working the dates out in his head.

"Huh, yeah, you must be right." John leaned back against the arm of the sofa again. "I can't believe you worked that out."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "It's very simple maths, John."

John laughed. "Yeah yeah, I just," he shrugged. "I thought maybe you'd have deleted it all or something."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "Why would I?"

John shrugged again, squirming a little. "I don't know, it's just....it's just transport isn't it?"

Sherlock shook his head. "It's never just transport with you."

John's head snapped up sharply. "Sherlock..." John felt all of a sudden like maybe he'd been looking at everything since Lydia's birth through a lens that was slightly out of focus. "I didn't realise...I thought..."

"What?" Sherlock asked softly, suddenly much closer than John had thought.

As he looked into those pale eyes he found himself struggling to remember his reasons for the distance between them.

Almost without thinking he leaned forward, closer to Sherlock, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on his face, his eyes flicking up to meet Sherlock's.

Just as John was asking himself what the worst that could happen was, when there was barely a centimetre between them John's phone rang, the high pitched ringtone sending him springing back.

"Shit, um, fuck," he babbled pulling his phone out of his back pocket as he stood up, stepping away from the sofa. "Hello?" He said turning his back on Sherlock. "Clara? Wait, slow down, I can't understand what you're saying..."

As John froze Sherlock stood up moving closer to him.

"Right, yeah, of course. I'll go now. Call me when you're on your way, ok?"

After a moment he lowered his phone and turned back to Sherlock, suddenly pale.

"What's happened?" Sherlock asked.

"Harry, she's been in an accident." John shoved his phone back in his pocket before pulling his coat on. "I've go to go."

 

\---------


	12. Sitting, waiting, wishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, 
> 
> There's not enough space here to apologise for this taking so long, in the words of Outkast, I apologise a million times! Life's been hectic and I spent a bit of time this month writing a challenge fic, but apologies again that this has taken so long.
> 
> Thanks again for your constant support, your comments and kudos mean so much! Thanks again for reading, hope you enjoy.
> 
> Read the tags!
> 
> W :-)

**Week 12**

Sherlock followed John out to the hallway as John shoved his arms into his coat, stopping suddenly at the top of the stairs. "Shit, Mrs Hudson's going out to play bingo soon, Lydia-"

"Don't be ridiculous, I'll look after her."

"Sherlock, I-"

"I won't go anywhere. Or take her to a crime scene," Sherlock said before John could interrupt.

John hesitated, casting a glance down towards Mrs Hudson's flat. Everything in him was saying he needed to get to Harry as soon as possible, especially as Clara had been out in Kent at a meeting and wouldn't get back to London for at least two hours. But he'd not left Lydia since the disaster with Sherlock.

"John." Sherlock's warm hand on his shoulder dragged him from his thoughts. "Are there any bottles in the changing bag?"

"What? Oh, yeah, there's a few." 

"So we'll be fine." He carefully guided John down the stairs. 

"I-"

"John, stop thinking. You know you need to go to the hospital, you know you don't want to take Lydia with you, so the solution is clear." He opened the front door gently pressing John toward it. 

"Ok just, be careful-"

"I will."

"And remember to-"

"Yep." Sherlock hailed a cab and opened the door for John. 

"Just text me if you give her the last bottle before I'm back."

"Obviously." With that he shut the cab door and retreated back into 221.

Sherlock stopped for a moment in the quiet hallway. He could do this. He was a genius, he could look after a baby for a few hours. He was _not_ worried. 

He closed his eyes for a second wishing he hadn't given up smoking again. Before he could start trying to remember if there were any cigarettes in the flat still a small cry came from down the hall and before he could think about it he was already letting himself into Mrs Hudson's flat. 

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson," he said, carefully lifting his daughter out of her arms, holding her gently. "John's had to go out," he picked up the changing bag, dropping it over his shoulder before collecting up the few toys that were scattered around. "I'll take her upstairs now so you can get ready."

"Oh, do you want me to stay at home dear? I don't have to go to bingo-" The woman was twisting her hands nervously.

"We'll be fine, thank you." He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Why did no one think he was capable of looking after his own daughter for a few hours? 

"Are you sure? Shall I call John to check?"

"No need, no," he said heading for the door, Lydia having quieted to just the occasional whimper. 

"Ok dear, but do you know how to heat the bottles-" She asked as Sherlock made his way up the stairs.

"Yes Mrs Hudson, thank you, off you go. Remember Mrs Turner will try to cheat." With that he shut the door, leaning back against it. 

He looked down at Lydia holding her slightly away from him to look at her face. "We'll be fine won't we?" The drooly smile she directed at him was probably just wind, but he decided to take it as a sign of her cooperation. "Excellent answer. So," he moved to carefully lie her on the sofa sitting next to her so she couldn't roll off. "What now?"

\----

Clara seemed fragile in a way that John had never seen in her before. She was such a firecracker usually; friendly and voracious. The woman with grey circles under her eyes and hollow cheeks was a far cry from the ball of energy that had persuaded John to tell her embarrassing stories about Harry the first time they’d met and had once challenged a man twice her size to a game of pool - free drinks for the winner - lost the game, but still persuaded him to pay for not only her drinks but John and Harry's too.

Now her dark eyes and uncomfortable thinness spoke volumes about how long her problems with Harry had been going on and just how bad they were.

John dropped down into the seat next to her handing her a paper cup. “It’s almost certainly shit but it’s something to do with your hands.”

She smiled at him weakly, sipping at the terrible coffee and not reacting to how bad it was.

They sat in silence for a few minutes both lost in their thoughts, waiting for the doctor to come back and tell them Harry was out of surgery.

“We were trying for a baby,” Clara said out of nowhere.

John looked over at her. “I- I had no idea.”

Clara smiled weakly. “Harry didn’t want to tell anyone, she didn’t know how long it would take us.” She pushed her red hair back from her face.

“When was this? Was she sober?”

Clara nodded. “She was getting there. We talked about whether we should wait until she’d been sober for a while before trying but we didn’t want her sobriety and our child linked together and she thought us trying would help her focus on something else so getting sober wasn’t the only thing on her mind...”

Clara shifted, tugging at her uncomfortable work skirt. “We picked a donor and I came off my heat suppressors and we thought,” she sighed, “we thought it’d be as easy as that. I suggested going to a doctor when it had been a year and I’d had 4 heats and still not got pregnant.”

John wrapped an arm around her, everything in him screaming to comfort her. “When was this?”

“About seven months ago. She didn’t want to go to a doctor so we decided to try once more but she couldn’t handle it. She was drinking and we were arguing all the time.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “She’d tell me that I should leave and find myself an alpha, that they'd give me a child...she can be so awful in an argument, but then she’d sober up and beg me to forgive her and never to leave.”

“What happened?” John asked softly, feeling how delicate she seemed in the fragile curve of her shoulders.

“We had the most enormous row. She said she didn’t want to try again, that I should go back on suppressors. She said that maybe everyone was right, that an omega and a beta shouldn’t even try to have a relationship. That an omega needed an alpha...she said that you and Sherlock hadn’t been trying and you yet were pregnant with a baby you didn’t even want...”

John winced making Clara turn to him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled around a bitten lip.

He shook his head. “Not your fault.”

“Yours either,” she shrugged. “She was drunk and just...awful, and I know she didn’t mean it but I couldn’t take it anymore, so when she told me to leave, I did.” She raked her fingers through her hair again. “That was about 4 months ago. I’m sorry I’ve not been to see you and the baby, Lydia isn’t it?”

John nodded.

“Has Harry been to see her?”

“Once,” John said.

Clara nodded absently. They sat in silence, both lost in their thoughts. After a while Clara spoke again.

“I’m glad that you kept her. I know it’s not any of my business, but...I’ve felt like I’ve been grieving for so long for a child that never existed. I can’t imagine getting over a child that’s been yours and real for months.”

John felt his stomach drop at the reminder of how close he’d been to losing Lydia, to letting her go.

“Me too,” he mumbled into her hair. “Me too.”

Clara rested close to him. “John...I think if she’s actually killed someone, it might be the end of her.” She swallowed round a sob and let John pull her close to him.

John rested his head against hers. He couldn’t bring himself to agree with her but deep down he thought she was probably right.

They both fell back into their quiet thoughts and waited.

\---

Sherlock stared down at his daughter. "Well, John has had to go to the hospital because your aunt is reckless and- hmm, maybe you don't need _all_ the details. Suffice to say both your aunt and your uncle are best avoided." He watched as she waved her arms around. "Though that last one's a little more tricky so I'll forgive your contact with him for now."

Lydia cooed at him and stuck a hand in her mouth, watching him. 

"I was going to do an experiment with some dead frogs and some acid, but I don't think John would be too thrilled with me for that, and besides I don't think I've got a face mask small enough for you." He looked at her carefully for a moment. "No, no, far too big. So we need a new plan for this evening." 

He carefully picked her up, holding her far enough away to look her in the eye. She carefully took in his face, her recently found focus leaving her wide eyed as she absorbed her alpha father's feature's close up. She reached out and buried a hand in his hair giving a sharp tug that caused Sherlock to wince and gently pry her hand away from his head. 

"As pleased as I am that your co-ordination seems to be improving, my hair isn't really for you to play with." He gently walked her to where he'd dumped the bag that John had brought over and riffled through one handed before sighing. "Your other father really needs to stop Molly buying toys for you." He pulled out a multicoloured creature that he thought was meant to be a butterfly. "This is ridiculous," he said giving it a shake causing it to rattle and squeak which in turn made Lydia grin and gurgle at it.

"Really? _This_ is what you like?" He shook it again. "Nothing looks like this and nothing's wings make that noise," he frowned at the crunching noise the wings gave out, frowning more as Lydia cooed and squirmed in his arms. "Not without freeze drying them anyway."

He sighed at his daughter's delight with the ridiculous toy. "All the more reason for you and your papa to come back home; so I can put a stop to this." He rolled his eyes as his shake of the butterfly made Lydia squeak. "Come on, I've got a skull to show you."

\--------

Eventually they were let in to see Harry. She'd had to have surgery to set a bone in her leg that had been badly broken and was still sedated due to her doctors' concerns about head injuries given that she appeared to have hit the steering wheel pretty hard when she'd crashed.

John couldn't believe the broken girl in the bed was his sister. Her face was swollen and purple where she'd hit the steering wheel, both her eyes were black and puffy. Her leg was strapped into place, the dressing around the wound spanning from just above her ankle and stretching up, disappearing under her gown. He tightened his grip on Clara as he felt her sway slightly on her feet, guiding her to the seat next to Harry's bed. 

"Is it like in the films d'you think?" She asked quietly, reaching carefully for Harry's hand, but stopping before she made contact. "Do you think she can hear us? That she knows we're here?" 

"I'm not sure," John said, perching on the arm of the chair. "But it won't do any harm to talk to her, hold her hand...if she can hear you then she'll be comforted won't she, and if she can't, well...nothing lost, ey?"

Clara nodded and reached out to close the distance between her hand and Harry's, slipping hers under to avoid jostling the canula. She leaned her head forward pressing a careful kiss to Harry's hand, squeezing her eyes shut, her head resting on the bed next to their hands. John shifted, feeling uncomfortable being part of such a private moment. 

"I'm going to talk to her doctor," he said squeezing Clara's shoulder as he slipped out of the room.

John had eventually returned to Harry's room, bringing Clara a sandwich and a coke. "Thought you might need some food, it's gone dinner time."

"Oh," Clara looked up at him. "I..." She looked at her watch. "It's later than I thought." 

John nodded. "Yeah." He pulled a seat up next to hers, close to the bed. "Please eat something, you're looking so skinny." 

Clara flashed a tight smile at him. "You sound like my mum." Even so she pulled the sandwich packet open taking a bite before John could complain. He started on his own sandwich, neither of them talking much.

At the buzz in his pocket he pulled his phone out to find a short message from Sherlock letting him know that Lydia was having her last bottle. He needed to leave soon to get back to Baker St before she needed feeding again. As guilty as it made him he was glad to have a genuine reason to leave. 

\-------

Sherlock had changed Lydia into a onesie that seemed like it'd be suitable to sleep in before settling down on the sofa to feed her, shooting a text off to John to let him know that he was using the last bottle. By the time Lydia had finished and he was sat rubbing her back she was yawning and nuzzling her head against his neck where he knew his scent would be strongest. He found himself fascinated by the fact that she seemed to know his scent, such a clever evolutionary trick to give babies a way to bond with their parents before sight and long before speech were properly developed. How alien to him too that his scent alone could be enough to comfort and reassure another living being. Fascinating. Terrifying.

He shifted carefully, propping himself up slightly with some cushions against one arm of the sofa, his feet up on the other arm. Lydia settled against him, her arms flung across his chest. He stroked over her back, smiling as she yawned and snuffled against him. 

"Hmm, well, John says he always reads to you at night...I think you're more or less already asleep but I don't want him to think I'm shirking my responsibilities." He stroked her dark curls softly before picking a book up off the floor near the sofa. "Bats frequently seek shelter in tree roots and cavities, a habitat that is at risk from development..."

 

\------

 

John dropped his head back against the headrest, stretching slightly against the padded seat, his back creaking painfully. He blamed the plastic seats at the hospital for the ache in his legs and back, and tried not to think about getting old. He rubbed at his aching eyes trying not to see Harry's broken and damaged body behind his closed eyelids. She'd looked so fragile; young and vulnerable in a way that was so at odds with how Harry usually was.

John had seen the other family when he was leaving. A man was being comforted by an older couple and John seriously hoped that it didn't mean that the worst had happened, for everyone's sake. He thought Clara had been right, it probably would be the end of Harry if she'd been the cause of someone else's death. 

The doctor had told John that the person in the other car was in critical condition, that they were doing what they could but it was touch and go. At the sight of the crying family he'd felt a hot flash of anger at his sister. She'd been _more than twice_ the drink drive limit. He'd questioned repeatedly what the hell Harry had been thinking getting in her car when she’d been drinking. He just hoped he'd get the chance to ask her.

He'd not had the capacity to think too much about Sherlock while he was at the hospital, but now the further he got from the it the more his worry about Lydia and Sherlock returned. He hoped Lydia wasn't too traumatised by whatever she and Sherlock had been up to while he'd been gone. Sherlock had hardly text him and hadn't called once so John assumed Lydia hadn't screamed for hours at least. 

As long as she'd been fed, was in a clean nappy and not playing in a sink full of chemicals and body parts John would count it as a win. 

His thoughts gradually turned to those moments with Sherlock before Clara had phoned. He knew that if she hadn't called he would have kissed Sherlock, and what then? What would it have meant for them? What did he want from Sherlock? Before he'd had chance too think much more on that subject the cab had pulled up in front of Baker St.

Expecting the worst John quietly made his way into the house and up to the flat, avoiding the creakiest stairs. The door to the living room was ajar and John listened out for a moment expecting crying, from either Sherlock or Lydia, but heard nothing. In fact the flat was eerily quiet. 

_If he's gone out again I'll kill him,_ John thought.

Frowning John quietly pushed the door to the living room open and felt his heart beat oddly at the scene before him. 

Sherlock was in a familiar position, lying on the sofa. This was nothing new, Sherlock had a special relationship with the sofa. Sometimes after a long case it seemed like the extra 10 steps it'd take Sherlock to get to the bedroom was just too far and he'd collapse on the sofa. Other times he'd disturb John while he was reading the paper on it, annoying him until he moved so that Sherlock could have the sofa to himself to stretch out and think. He'd seen Sherlock stand on the sofa to reach things he'd attached to the walls. He'd seen him fully covered and stark naked on the sofa. But he'd never imagined he'd see him like this, bare feet propped on one arm, cushions under his sleeping head, their 3 month old daughter curled up on his chest, Sherlock's big hands holding her carefully in place as she slept, apparently as peacefully as her alpha father was.

John bit his lip around the smile spreading across his face. He stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, not wanting to wake either of them up just yet. Quietly fumbling in his pocket to get to his phone he smiled and snapped a few pictures of them. They were the perfect antidote to the heaviness he'd carried with him since he'd got the call about Harry. 

Carefully he moved closer, sitting on the edge of the sofa, his bum perched next to Sherlock's hip. He gently stroked his hand over Lydia's back, causing her to shift but not wake up. He knew it was silly but he'd missed her, the hours he'd been at the hospital were the longest he'd been apart from her.

Sherlock’s eyes popped open at the slight movement on his chest, his gaze automatically landing on the baby to check on her before he locked eyes with John.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock mumbled through a yawn.

John smiled softly and nodded, carefully picking Lydia up. "I'm going to put her in the travel cot, I'll just be a sec."

Sherlock hadn't moved from the sofa when John came back in. He pushed himself up on his elbows, sleep lingering at the edge if his consciousness. "I fed her about an hour ago, she-"

Before Sherlock could finish his thought he had a lap full of John and had been pushed back against the sofa, his arms wrapping around the omega to make sure he didn't fall off and brain himself on the coffee table. John pressed closer, his lips crashing against Sherlock's as he shifted to secure his place on the sofa, knees moving to either side of Sherlock's hips.

Sherlock couldn't breathe properly, never mind think. For once though, he didn't care about thinking, pulling John closer automatically, deepening the kiss until John had to pull away, gasping for air.

"John, what-" Sherlock was silenced by one of John's hands clamping over his mouth.

"Please," John whispered. "I need you; this. To forget myself."

Sherlock’s brow furrowed momentarily before he remembered his words from a few weeks ago.

_What would it take for you to forget yourself for longer?_

He nodded as much as his position allowed and pulled John closer, the omega's hand sliding from Sherlock's mouth to his hair, as Sherlock kissed him deeply, pulling him close as if every millimetre between them was too much. 

John's heart was racing, it felt like forever since he'd kissed Sherlock like this, since he'd been this close to him and he realised how lonely he’d been. 

As if he could sense that closeness was what John needed Sherlock wrapped his arm tighter around him, pressing them together from lip to hip, his breath catching at the sound the movement dragged out of John. 

One of John's hands stayed curled in Sherlock's hair, while the other wriggled between them to start tugging at the buttons of the detective’s predictably snug shirt. When he pulled away and leaned back to give himself a little more room to get the buttons open Sherlock followed him up trying to keep his lips pressed against John's. 

John grinned and pushed at Sherlock’s shoulders. "I can't undo you that easily."

"Yes you can." 

Sherlock’s voice was so serious that John looked up from where he'd been untucking Sherlock’s shirt. "Sherlock..." but before Sherlock could respond John was kissing him again, slower than before but no less intense. 

John pushed Sherlock’s shirt open finally tearing himself away from Sherlock’s lips, but reluctant to be too far from him he quickly dropped a kiss to Sherlock’s neck, teeth briefly worrying the skin under his ear, making Sherlock writhe and John's blood run a few degrees hotter.

He trailed kisses down Sherlock’s neck and chest, pausing to nip at one hard pink nipple, rewarding Sherlock’s groan with a soothing lick across the sensitive flesh.

As he scooted further back, lips and teeth and tongue trailed down Sherlock’s chest and stomach, littering him with kisses and bites leaving Sherlock squirming beneath him.

Sherlock forced his eyes open as John moved further down the sofa, his hands tugging at the zip of Sherlock’s trousers. Before he could get the zip fully down and the button open Sherlock grabbed John's arm pulling him back up slightly, reluctant as he was to be moved.

"What-?" John asked, his face flushed in a way that made Sherlock want to see how pink he could make him go.

"You're wearing too many clothes," Sherlock complained, pushing himself up a little to tug at the bottom of John's jumper, pulling it up and trying to get his shirt out of his jeans. John leant back a little stripping his jumper off but leaving his shirt in place as he bent back down to kiss Sherlock’s neck again. 

Sherlock moved enough to get his hands to the buttons on John's shirt but before he’d got more than two buttons undone John pulled away from his hands again, his tongue trailing down Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock sat up on one elbow, his other hand cupping John's jaw and gently tilting the man's face up to him, stilling him momentarily. "Do you plan on us doing this clothed?" His thumb stroked over John's lip, kiss pink and shiny. 

John shook his head and Sherlock frowned at the blush that crept up John's cheeks.

"I've seen you naked hundreds of times, why are you shy now?"

John sighed and for a moment Sherlock thought he might have ruined the moment, but John dropped down against him, his face pressing against Sherlock’s neck. "I look different now," he mumbled, but the kiss that he landed on Sherlock’s neck was followed by a small bite, which told Sherlock that this was just a pause in whatever direction John wanted to take things. "Since Lydia."

John felt silly, he'd never been vain, but Harry's taunts about his omega softness had been popping into his head every time he’d seen the still soft curve of his stomach when he showered and he frowned every time he rubbed moisturiser into his stretch marked skin.

Sherlock wound a hand into John's hair, holding just tightly enough to stop John looking away from him. "I've seen you naked more times than I can count, I've seen you in heat, I've seen you gravid and round with our child, and then seen you push her into life, you don't have _anything_ to hide from me." 

John's blush deepened but he pressed against Sherlock again, leaning to kiss him and not moving away when Sherlock’s hand moved to his buttons this time.

* 

John was certain that Sherlock was trying to drive him insane. He'd slowly peeled John out of his clothes, handling him so carefully it left John reeling. The whole process was slowed down (but made so wonderful) by the fact that Sherlock seemed intent on kissing every inch of John that appeared. By the time they were both naked John felt like his skin was electrified and Sherlock had somehow flipped their positions so John was on his back under him. He hadn't the first clue when or how Sherlock had moved them round, too lost in the feeling of skin on skin and on what Sherlock’s wonderful, _wonderful_ hands were doing below his waist.

At a particularly torturous twist of Sherlock’s wrist John moaned, his feet scrabbling on the sofa, his hips following the movement of Sherlock’s hand around his cock as his knees tensed around Sherlock’s hips. Sherlock’s head dropped to John's shoulder, watching his own hand as it traveled down John's skin, stroking over John's balls and carrying on further back. John gasped softly at the touch, spreading his legs to allow Sherlock’s hand to move further back.

At the first press of Sherlock’s soft finger against the tight furl of skin John gasped and shivered. For months the only people to touch him there had been doctors and midwives, and the part of himself that had once been the most private and intimate had become functional and medical. 

Now under Sherlock’s talented hands he felt far from medical and practical, he felt _wanton._

Sherlock’s voice dragged him from his thoughts, his eyes meeting pale ones that were more concerned than John would have expected. "Does this feel ok?" He asked, slowly pressing a finger inside him.

John nodded and tilted his hips up, Sherlock’s finger pushing deeper. "If you stop now I’ll kill you," he grinned as Sherlock laughed. 

"Definitely ok then." He leaned forward to drop a kiss against John's shoulder, biting his lip around a moan as John tensed around his finger. "You're so wet," he said, his lips close to John's ear, a second finger slowly pressing in against the first.

John nodded and turned to kiss Sherlock gasping out his response. "It's because of the pregnancy."

Sherlock looked down between them again, watching where he could see his hand working against John. "How long-"

"Til I have a heat." He said, pulling Sherlock back for a kiss. "Then it'll balance out. Now, do you want to talk more about postnatal biology or are you going to fuck me?"

The reflexive snap of Sherlock’s hips against him and the hard flesh that pressed into his side answered his question without Sherlock needing to say a word. As Sherlock moved over him carefully, kisses littering John's face and neck he carried on stroking John inside. "Do we need anything?" He settled between John's legs, carefully pulling out his fingers.

John managed to shake his head, his eyes screwed shut against the feeling of fire in his veins. "No, no; implant. Come on Sherlock, please."

John's desperate tone made something twist inside Sherlock and he manoeuvred carefully, not stopping until he was fully inside him, John's legs wrapped around his hips. He held his breath as his senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of being inside John again, inside the tight wet heat of an omega, _his_ omega. John panted slightly under him, a soft moan bringing Sherlock back from the edges of his brain. "Are you ok? Does it hurt?" Only through the strongest grip on his self control was he able to keep totally still, focusing on John's face, flushed and tense beneath him.

The omega shook his head, his hands wrapped around Sherlock’s arms. "Doesn't hurt, been a while though." He shifted slightly, Sherlock biting his lip as a shudder ran through him. "Just take it slow."

Sherlock nodded, dropping to his elbows to kiss John, needing to be as close to him as possible. As he kissed him slowly he carefully pulled back a little, before pressing back inside him. Slowly, carefully, gradually he worked up to a rhythm that had John whining and grasping at him.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock whispered, breath hot and fast on John's ear.

John nodded and tilted his hips up, Sherlock hitting that sweet spot inside him, stars appearing behind his tightly shut eyes.

"Are you sure? I could stop-"

"I'm doing something wrong if you could stop," John managed, cutting himself off with a groan as a particularly well placed thrust hit exactly the right spot inside him chasing any thought that wasn't Sherlock from his head. Sherlock wrapped an arm under John's knee pulling it up a little, allowing him to thrust deeper. 

John wrapped himself around Sherlock, pulling him further into him, wanting to lose himself in the alpha. He gave up the last shreds of his conscious thought, his mind filled with sensation, the sound of flesh against flesh, hard breaths and soft moans filling the room. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Sherlock as lost in it as he was but found the alpha watching him closely, his hair damp at the edges from the exertion. The look in Sherlock’s eyes was too intense for John to focus on it for long, but even when his eyes slid shut it was seared into his retinas; lust, intimacy, closeness, comfort, caution, gentleness, concern...it was all there on Sherlock’s face and all there for John.

As the thought threatened to overwhelm him Sherlock’s hand wrapped around his erection, the firm grip pushing him closer to the edge. He forced out a warning to Sherlock who tightened his grip and upped his pace in response.

"Oh fuck-" John groaned, but before he could get any further his body tensed and shook as his orgasm dragged him under, hitting him like a freight train.

The sight was almost too much for Sherlock, John so open and vulnerable, but Sherlock didn’t look away, he kept his eyes on John and the sight combined with the tight wet grip of him punched his orgasm out of him, his head dropping to John's shoulder as he was overcome.

They lay panting and brainless for a while, both coming back to themselves in parts. Without realising it John's hand was stroking through Sherlock’s sweat damp curls while Sherlock steadied his breathing, his face hot against John's skin.

Neither of them spoke for a while, Sherlock eventually eased John's leg down, stroking his hip as he pulled out of him, feeling foolish for feeling so instantly adrift without John around him. 

Seeing John wince Sherlock frowned. "Did I hurt you?"

John smiled and pulled Sherlock down for a gentle kiss. "No, like I said it's just been a while, that's all." John wrapped his arms around Sherlock carefully guiding them onto their sides, pressing himself against the back of the sofa, having to hold Sherlock close to make sure he didn't fall off . "You didn't hurt me, stop looking so worried." 

He smiled and kissed Sherlock again before pressing his head against Sherlock's collarbone.

With the blood returning to his brain all his concerns and worries from the last three months started creeping back in. He scrunched his eyes shut, pressing his head harder against Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock squeezed him carefully. "Stop thinking," he mumbled.

"Mmm, can't."

"That's normally my line."

John smiled against Sherlock's skin, turning it into a kiss. "Annoying isn't it?"

They lay in silence for a short time longer before John's thoughts swamped him again.

"Hmmm, I should go-"

Sherlock tightened his hold. "Please stay."

"I..."

"Lydia's settled, you're exhausted, just...stay. I can sleep out here or upstairs if you want, or-"

John leaned in to kiss Sherlock's lips. "Shut up. I might regret it in the morning but let's go to bed."

John knew he shouldn't, he knew he should get dressed and pack up his and Lydia's things, that he should take himself and their daughter back to Mycroft's house, to the room he'd been in for the last three months, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't make himself do one more thing that he didn't want to do, so he let Sherlock lead him into the bathroom and then to bed, he let Sherlock wrap him up in his arms and pull him close, he let Sherlock press kisses over the back of his neck, and as he entwined his fingers with Sherlock's and pressed their joined hands over his heart, he couldn't quite remember why he wasn't doing this always.

\------

 

John leaned back against the headboard, Lydia finally settling down to feed. John sighed softly stroking her hair.

“I thought she might never stop crying,” Sherlock said rubbing a hand over his face making John laugh.

“She’s never very happy in the middle of the night,” John smiled down at her. “You’ve just never seen her like this.”

“Mmm,” Sherlock nodded, pulling the covers up a little further. “I could see her like this all the time if you’d move back here.”

“Sherlock,” John said, his tone a warning.

“What?”

“Last night...what happened, it doesn’t change things.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Of course it changes things.” How could John not see that things had changed? They were in _their_ bed together for the first time in months, John hadn’t left last night, and Sherlock thought that had to be a pretty clear sign that things had changed. How could the ridiculous man _not_ see it?

John watched him quietly for a moment before looking back down at their daughter. “Fine,” he sighed. “Maybe you’re right, maybe something has changed, but it doesn’t _fix_ things.”

Sherlock lay quietly and John left him to his thoughts.

“Does this mean you’re going back to Mycroft’s?” Sherlock eventually said.

John laughed softly, moving Lydia to his shoulder to wind her. “Not at 4am, no.”

“But later?”

John nodded, pressing his lips together. “Yes, later I’ll go back to Mycroft’s.” He moved to carefully lie a mostly sleeping Lydia back in the travel cot.

“Why?”

John turned back to Sherlock, a frown on his face. “What do you mean why?”

“Why are you going back to Mycrofts?”

“Because he has a dishwasher,” John said flippantly.

“John,” Sherlock frowned.

“I don’t want to have an argument Sherlock, would you rather I went now?”

“Of course I wouldn’t, I don’t want you to go back _ever_ , that’s the point.”

John groaned in frustration covering his hand with his face. “Sherlock, it’s not that simple, I can’t just move back in!”

“Why not?” Sherlock sat up, crossing his arms. “I can’t think of one good reason John! So tell me why, one good reason.”

“I don’t trust you anymore!”

“This again!” Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh oddly enough Sherlock, yes, this again. I can't just make myself trust you."

"And you never will if you don't give me the chance to prove myself trustworthy!" Sherlock said with a wave of his arms before dropping back against the bed. 

John sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Maybe you have a point," John eventually managed between gritted teeth.

"Excuse me?"

John sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "You heard me, don't be a dick."

Sherlock shifted back up to sitting, his eyebrows furrowed. "So what does that mean?" He asked eyeing John suspiciously.

"I don't...I don't know."

"You're still not moving back in are you?"

"No."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I'll find a way to fix this."

John smiled sadly. "I hope so."

Sherlock shifted over slightly, hokding the covers up. "Since you're not heading back to Mycroft's yet you should probably get back in bed."

John hesitated for a moment before slipping under the duvet. "Just sleeping, no funny business," he warned as Sherlock curled up behind him. 

"Spoil sport," Sherlock murmured close to John's ear, his smile apparent in his tone.

John smiled to himself as Sherlock wrapped around him, holding him close and breathing his scent in. 

When he was on the very edge of sleep John whispered quietly. "I do want things to be fixed between us you know."

Sherlock was quiet for so long that John suspected the man had fallen asleep and closed his eyes to do the same, but before he could succumb a gentle kiss was pressed behind his ear, soft lips brushing his ear as Sherlock spoke. "I'll find a way to fix us."

John nodded and pressed back into Sherlock's hold, hoping that the alpha was right.


	13. Let's go to bed before you say something real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking is far less interesting than everything else Sherlock and John have been doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Ok, so the wait for this has been ridiculous and I'm so sorry. I've struggled to find my writing mojo between the last chapter and this one, but I think I'm starting to get back into it now. Anyway, blah blah blah. Super apologies, thank you so much to those of you who have stuck with the story, I hope you're still enjoying it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll try my very hardest to get the next one out sooner!
> 
> Apologies and thanks again for reading and sticking with it. W :-) 
> 
>  
> 
> \----

**Week 14**

It was easy to forget, John thought leaning in to Sherlock's touch. Easy to pretend that every stroke of Sherlock's hand over his goose bumpy skin wiped away one of their problems, that every kiss fixed something that had been broken and that each murmured promise pressed with hot breath against hotter skin brought them closer together than ever.

That was, John thought, why they'd not been able to keep their hands off each other in the two weeks since they'd first slept together again. 

That and the orgasms, they probably played a big part too. 

"Stop thinking," Sherlock rumbled close to John's ear, one hand working it's way into the back of John's jeans, struggling to get in where he'd pressed John against the counter in the kitchen.

"Mmm, hard not to," John gasped as Sherlock pulled him closer to make room for his hand. "Sherlock, we can't-ah!-we can't, Mycroft might walk in." He yelped as Sherlock pinched him hard on one arse cheek. "Ow!"

"Don't mention Mycroft while I have my hand in your pants."

John grinned and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the smooth skin of Sherlock's collarbone, biting gently. "He could still walk in on us."

"He's in Belarus," Sherlock huffed shifting his hands to the front of John's jean, pulling the buttons open as he sank to his knees. "Now if you have no further objections..." he said with a raised eyebrow.

For a moment all the possible objections John could legitimately make popped into his brain but the feeling of Sherlock's big hand wrapping around his cock ended all rational thought.

"No no," John gasped, a hand tangling in Sherlock's hair. "No objections at all."

\-----

**Week 15**

John leaned over the bed pressing a soft kiss to Sherlock's sleeping face. He gently stroked a hand through dark, messy curls as eyelids flickered, one gradually popping open.

"What's wrong? Is Lydia ok?" Sherlock mumbled as he fought his way back to consciousness.

"She's fine," John smiled, some part of him glad that their baby was one of Sherlock's first thoughts. "I'm going to see Harry today, remember? I need to leave early to go and get changed and then meet her lawyer before visiting hours."

"Oh yes," Sherlock nodded, pressing against John's hand, his eyes shut. 

John smiled at Sherlock's easy affection, his fingers moving gently through the curls. "Your hair's a state," he teased softly.

"Your fault," Sherlock mumbled, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

John grinned as his fingers carried on with their movements, remembering their similar path last night, except less frantic and more gentle this time. 

"Mmm, true." He leaned down to kiss Sherlock again. "Lydia's been changed and fed so she should sleep for a few more hours. Bottles are in the fridge, clothes-"

His reminders were cut off by Sherlock pulling him down on top of him, quickly rolling them until he was straddling John.

"I know how to look after her, John," he said, hands resting threateningly over John's ribs.

"Sherlock," John said, his tone a warning.

"Mmm?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the man beneath him, hands stroking up John's torso. He'd planned on keeping up his tickling threat but the feel of warm skin through John's shirt and the press of John's denim covered crotch against his bare arse sent his thoughts in a different direction.

As if he saw the change in Sherlock's thoughts John's eyes went wide. "No. No, don't even think it, I don't have time."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sherlock said in an innocent voice that was entirely at odds with the way he ground his hips down slightly against John's crotch. 

"Sherlock," John warned again, a warning that would have been more believable had his hips not followed Sherlock's. "I dont have time," he added as his hands moved to grip Sherlock's hips, not holding him still though. "I need to go back to Mycroft's to shower and change. _And_ if I don't leave soon Mrs Hudson will catch me leaving."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, keeping up his gentle rocking against an increasingly interested hardness in John's jeans. "Mrs Hudson will go out to buy a paper in 45 minutes, you can leave then and still have plenty of time to change and meet the lawyer." 

John glanced at the clock in Sherlock's room. If he left in 45 minutes he'd have just about enough time, if he gave in and used one of Mycroft's cars instead of public transport like he'd planned.

Sherlock leaned forward to whisper in his ear, bringing more gorgeous naked flesh into contact with John.

"Besides," he said, lips practically kissing John's ear he was so close. "I thought perhaps we could switch this morning..." Sherlock kept his cool and didn't grin the way he wanted to when he saw the shock on John's face.

John's grip on Sherlock's hips tightened momentarily. They'd switched occasionally before, but it was rare for an alpha to want an omega to top; the instinctive urge to dominate was a hard one to suppress.

Sherlock kissed John's neck again. "I want you to use your slick inside me," he murmured before biting John's earlobe gently. 

John gasped at Sherlock's words, his hips pressing up against Sherlock's arse, fingers digging in against his hipbones, his eyes fluttering shut at the image that conjured in his brain. _Fuck_.

Sherlock grinned against John's ear, keeping his torturously slow rocking against the growing buldge in John's jeans. "I want to watch you get your fingers dripping wet and then have them inside me."

Despite the grip John had on his bottom lip with his teeth he couldn't contain the moan caused by Sherlock's words. Where he'd been half hard before, the thought of what Sherlock had just described sent every drop of blood he had rushing to his cock. 

"Fucking hell, Sherlock," he groaned pressing his hips up against Sherlock.

Sherlock couldn't hold back his satisfied smirk as he moved his kisses over to John's mouth. "But if you really need to go..."

"Shut up," John complained, rolling them over until Sherlock was beneath him again. "As if I could go anywhere with that on my mind." He leaned forward to kiss him. "I'd be arrested for indecency on the tube."

Sherlock laughed, tilting his head back to give John better access to his neck. "Pervert."

John leaned back grinning at him. "I dont think you get to call anyone that given what you've just asked for."

Sherlock grinned as he pulled the bottom of John's shirt up, forcing him to pull it over his head or else be stuck in it. "You're talking far too much."

John laughed as he leaned back, pulling Sherlock's hands up over his head, holding them there with one hand. "Keep still," he said, trying to sound stern.

"Oh, are we playing like that?" Sherlock asked, one brow raised, self satisfied smirk still on his face.

"Problem?"

"No, Captain Watson," he said, trying and failing to keep the grin off his face.

John tried to find it funny, willed himself to laugh and make a joke back, but instead he could only find it incredibly hot, smile drifting off his face as the atmosphere changed from playful to something more intense. 

"That's more like it," he managed to choke out, ducking down to kiss Sherlock hard, both of them moaning into the kiss when Sherlock moved to wrap his legs around John's hips.

.........

Mrs Hudson liked to go out and get a paper every day, though she rarely read it. The thing was, she liked to know what was going on, just on a smaller scale than the paper dealt with. She liked to see who else was out and about and what they were doing. She liked to nosey at the newsagents list of who hadn't paid their bill and how behind they were, she liked to see who'd ordered 'specialist' magazines, she liked to gossip with the newsagent about new businesses opening nearby. 

She liked to be in the know about things, and the closer to home they were the more she wanted to know. So when one of Mrs Turner's married ones said that when he'd got home a few days ago from his night shift at 6am he was sure he'd seen John leaving 221b Mrs Hudson had assured him that he must have been mistaken. After all, she'd know if her boys were back together, wouldn't she?

Just as she was shaking out her umbrella on the front step - _Far too rainy for July_ , she thought - the front door opened and John appeared, clearly not expecting to see her there given that he almost collided with her.

"Sorry Mrs Hudson! Are you ok?" He asked, one hand on her elbow keeping her steady. 

"I'm fine dear, fine. You're here early, everything ok?" She watched him carefully.

"Oh, yes, um, I'm going to see Harry, needed to drop Lydia off," he babbled running a hand through his damp hair.

"Did you get caught in the rain?" She frowned. "It won't do you any good to go about with wet hair you know."

John blushed, a hand still nervously running through his hair. He and Sherlock had got so caught up in their morning activities that time had been the last thing on either of their minds, especially as John had found himself unable to let go of Sherlock after, and Sherlock had been unusually amenable to a post coital cuddle, so John had decided to forego the change of clothes and just showered at Baker St, leaving him more time with Sherlock.

"Er, yes, yep. Need to remember my umbrella," he finally managed to sputter out.

Mrs Hudson watched him carefully. "Weren't you wearing that jumper yesterday John?"

He looked down at himself. "Oh, um, yes, yeah, er, Lydia, she um, she was sick on the one I put on this morning, had to change at the last minute. Would you look at the time, I'd better get a move on or I'll be late. See you later, Mrs H." With that John practically threw himself out onto Baker St to hail a passing cab.

Mrs Hudson watched him for a moment. Something wasn't right but she couldn't figure out what it was. 

Two hours later as she was making some scones a thought popped into her head.

_If John had been caught in the rain, why wasn't his coat wet?_

As a smile spread over her face at the thought she wondered if this was how Sherlock felt when he did all his deducing?

\----

**Week 16**

As she returned from getting a coffee Molly smiled to herself, spotting a familiar figure through the glass panel in the lab door. 

"Hello stranger," she said, smiling shyly. "Not seen you for a while."

"I know what 'Hello stranger' implies," Sherlock mumbled not looking round from where he was riffling through some files. 

"You're not really supposed to be looking-oh!" She exclaimed as Sherlock turned around. "You're definitely not supposed to bring a baby in here Sherlock!"

He looked down at where Lydia was nestled against him in the baby carrier, her sleeping face pressed against his chest. "Why not? She's not causing a problem."

Molly made a squeaking sound. "It's not her that's the problem, there are chemicals in here-"

"Which I've kept her away from."

"And, there are organs-!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as his hand stroked Lydia's hair. "She can't see them from here, and even if she could she wouldn't know what they are anyway." Briefly he wondered how long it would take for her to be able to identify body parts, she could probably get the basics by 2 or 3 he thought.

Molly sighed knowing it was hopeless to argue with Sherlock in this mood. She shook her head and approached him smiling at Lydia's sleeping face before gently stroking her hair. "She's so beautiful Sherlock," she smiled up at him. "I can't believe how much she's changed in such a short time."

Sherlock wanted to scoff and tell her that of course Lydia had changed, that that's how changing from child to grown up worked, but instead he found himself agreeing, making a humming sound. "Mmm, she's almost got the hang of rolling over too." He froze wondering what the hell was wrong with him that he was bragging about rolling over, animals could do it for God's sake.

Molly didn't seem to notice and just carried on watching the sleeping baby. "Clever girl," she smiled. "How's John?" She asked looking up at him. "Neither of you have been around much."

"John's fine."

"Good, good," Molly replied. They stood in semi awkward silence for a moment. "So...what are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, I wanted to ask your advice about something," Sherlock said, shifting slightly.

"Oh right, what about?" Molly started resorting the files that Sherlock had disrupted with his rummaging.

"Dishwashers."

Molly spun around. "What?" She sounded utterly bewildered. "A dishwasher? For washing dishes?"

"That is usually what one does with a dishwasher," Sherlock sighed. 

"What, we, what do you need to know?" She stammered. "Is it for an experiment?"

Sherlock shook his head, though now Molly had mentioned it he was sure such a machine would have experimental purposes. "Not exactly. I need to by one for my flat, it sounds mind numbingly dull so I thought you might be able to help me."

A flash of something crossed Molly's face and Sherlock could tell that she wanted to tell him to bugger off, but instead she sighed and sat at her computer. "You can buy one online, I'll help you find one."

\-----

**Week 17**

John winced at the noise coming from upstairs as he opened the door to 221. He frowned down at Lydia who was chewing on her hand in the baby carrier, seemingly unconcerned by the bumping and banging from upstairs. 

Just as he was contemplating turning round and leaving Mrs Hudson appeared pulling her coat on. "Oh John, he's been banging around all morning, and then that man came, and there was more noise. I can't stand it so I'm going out." She paused to kiss Lydia's none saliva covered hand. "He's ridiculous." With that she stomped out leaving John to contemplate whether going upstairs was a good idea or not. Lydia started cooing at him, wriggling in the carrier impatient now that they'd come to a standstill. He rolled his eyes as he started up the stairs. "Come on then sweetheart, let's go and see what madness your dad's up to."

"I can hear you."

John smirked as Sherlock's voice reached him. "Well I wasn't being quiet." John came to a stop in the doorway to the kitchen. "What's going on?" The kitchen was in quite a state, a whole cupboard seemed to be missing and a man in overalls was banging away in the space the cupboard had left behind. Lydia was squirming against him now, excited by all the activity. Just as John was about to ask his question again Sherlock was in front of him taking Lydia out of the carrier and making her giggle by blowing raspberries on her bare arms before kissing her pink cheeks. "Just some repairs that's all." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to John, Lydia carefully cradled between them. 

John quickly pulled back. "Sherlock."

"What?" He asked, moving away to distract Lydia from the noise in the kitchen by holding her in front of the mirror. He was fascinated by her reaction to their reflections. "It's good for Lydia to see her parents being affectionate."

John rolled his eyes. Sherlock had definitely read that somewhere. "Not when her parents are still figuring out what's going on and don't want other people to know that yet."

"That's your rule, and anyway no one's here, I heard Mrs Hudson leave."

John glanced at the plumber before thinking better of whatever argument he was going to make. "A cup of tea's out of the question I take it?"

"Sorry mate, the water's off," the plumber said from where he was still fiddling about under the counter. 

"Great," John sighed, wandering away from the kitchen towards where Sherlock was still in front of the mirror making faces at Lydia's reflection. He smiled at the sight of them shaking his head slightly. He frowned as he spotted a big box off to one side of the living room, blaming the fact that he'd been up twice with Lydia in the night for not spotting it sooner. "What's this?" He asked turning back to Sherlock. When Sherlock didn't respond he moved round the box til he reached a side with writing, rolling his eyes as he took in what it was, the chaos and workman now making sense. "You're ridiculous-"

"It's for experiments," Sherlock interrupted, entertaining Lydia with funny faces.

"You know I was joking when I said that about Mycroft's-"

"Let's go out for tea," Sherlock carried on moving to pass Lydia back to John. "I'll get my coat."

"This doesn't change anything-"

"Experiments, John!"

John rolled his eyes turning to his baby who was watching after Sherlock. "Your dad's a mad man."

"I heard that!" Sherlock called from his room. 

"You were meant to," John called back as he settled Lydia back into the carrier pressing a kiss to her head. "Completely bonkers," he said more softly, and if he couldn't keep the grin off he face, well, no one but Lydia could see and she wouldn't tell anyone.

\----

**Week 18**

John grinned as the tray was set down in front of him. "Are more people joining us or do you still think I'm eating for two?" 

Chris laughed as he sat down opposite him shifting plates off the tray. "I wasn't sure what you'd like and they had some kind of cake and sandwich deal. As if you're complaining about too much food anyway." 

John laughed, shifting Lydia to rest on his lap, looking across the table at Chris. "Nah, just felt like I should make a token protest," he said grabbing half a sandwich and moving it quickly as Lydia batted her hand at it. "How're things at work?"

Chris smiled and bobbed his head. "Much the same really. The locum replacing you is a boring twat- Oops, sorry, should I not say twat in front of her?" He asked with a nod at Lydia. 

John laughed. "Don't worry about it, there's a few more months before that's a concern I think."

Chris grinned. "But yeah, he's alright, just dull. Graham's mate had their baby, did you hear about that already?"

John shook his head smiling. "No, what'd they have? All ok?" 

"Yeah, all smooth sailing. They had a boy, a beta. Graham can't stop showing everyone pictures. 'Here's my baby in a blue onesie, here he is in a green one.'"

John laughed. "I can imagine, soppy bastard. I'm surprised they had the baby tested so early."

"Mmm, yeah, seems to be quite popular now to test them right away. You've not had Lydia tested then?"

John shook his head, stroking a hand carefully over his daughter's hair, watching as she entertained herself with the noisy dragonfly Molly had bought for her. "I just don't see the point, not right now at least, maybe when she starts school or something, but..." he shrugged. "I just don't see the need right now." He made a mental note to ask Sherlock what he thought about secondary gender testing. 

"Me either really, I mean, I can see it for later on, so you can be prepared, but," he shrugged. "But then I'm not a parent so what would I know?" He shot a self depreciating smile at John before tucking into his cake.

John smiled back. "No omega on the scene for you yet then?" He shifted Lydia to his other arm to keep his drink out of her reach. 

Chris shook his head. "Nah, not at the moment. I seem particularly unlucky in picking people, always seem to like someone unattainable." He looked down at his cake poking at it with his fork.

John huffed a laugh. "It's rarely straight forward, and seems to be especially complicated for alphas and omegas, I mean, you've got all the usual getting to know someone stuff but then heats on top of that when it's hard a to tell if you genuinely want to be with the person or if you're just gagging for it so much-" John stopped as Chris choked on his coffee. "Sorry mate," he laughed. "Didn't mean to be so graphic."

Chris shook his head mopping up the coffee he'd spilled. "Er, no, no, it's fine. And true."

John grinned at him spearing a bit of his cake. "Yep. Oops, sorry sweetheart," he said brushing the cake he'd dropped off Lydia's arms.

"Here," Chris said, pushing his plate away and holding his arms out. "Let me take her for a bit, let you eat your cake without covering your child in food."

"You sure?" John asked, already picking her up to hand over.

Chris grinned as he took her sitting her on his lap, she looked up at him a confused expression on her face. "Hello beautiful, hello." She squeaked and waved her arms. Chris grinned up at John. "She's lovely mate, really great."

John couldn't help his grin. "Mmm, yeah, she's pretty special." 

Chris rocked her gently on his knee as she smiled up at him. "She looks like Sherlock doesn't she?" He asked stroking her hair softly.

John's smile softened as he nodded. "Yeah, everyone says that."

"How are things with you two?"

"Um...complicated," John said with a wry smile. "Improving I think."

"Yeah?"

John nodded. "I think so. He's great with Lydia."

"And you and he are...?" Chris trailed off.

John could feel himself blushing as he shifted in his seat. "Honestly...I'm not sure what I'd called it at the moment. He's been great these last few weeks with everything going on with Harry and her case and all that..."

"But you're...more than friends and coparents?" He shifted Lydia slightly waving the dragonfly in front of her. 

John nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Tentative baby steps, but yeah." He smiled softly. "See, complicated."

Chris laughed weakly. 

John fidgeted feeling uncomfortable suddenly. "So did you see the game the other day? Your lot took a right beating."

Chris laughed and took the subject change gratefully.

....

"Where have you been?" Sherlock asked sharply as John walked into 221b, dropping a shopping bag on the kitchen table. 

John looked over at where Sherlock had draped himself over the sofa. "I met up with a work friend and then went to buy milk and bread because you still seem to think that they just magically appear in the flat." John lifted Lydia from the carrier and sat her on Sherlock's chest, checking he'd got her before moving back to the shopping. "Have you been there all day?"

"I thought you were coming over."

"I'm here aren't I," John asked putting things away. "Can you have Lydia the day after tomorrow? I need to go and see Harry." He turned to face Sherlock who'd not said anything and hadn't even huffed at the mention of Harry as was his usual response. "What are you doing?" John asked unimpressed as Sherlock sniffed at Lydia, tucking her under his chin as he sniffed around her. "Are you scent marking our baby?" He asked, moving to stand in front of the coffee table. When Sherlock didn't respond John sighed. "She already smells like you, what are you doing?" His stern tone wasn't helped by Lydia giggling as her alpha father turned her round to carry on covering her in his scent.

"Who did you have lunch with?" Sherlock asked holding Lydia close to him.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"She smells like an alpha that isn't me."

John closed his eyes. "Are you kidding me?" When he opened them Sherlock was sitting up, Lydia still held close to him.

"I don't like it."

John shook his head. "You're being ridiculous." He turned to head back into the kitchen.

Sherlock stood up, carefully setting Lydia on her playmat. "I am not being ridiculous."

"Yes you are! I had a sandwich and a coffee with a work friend, he held Lydia while I ate because I dropped cake on her while I was holding her. Satisfied?"

"Who was it?" Sherlock asked moving closer.

"What?"

"Who was it?"

"Oh for God's sake, not that it's actually any of your business but it was Chris." He banged the kettle down onto the base.

"Of course it was."

"What does that mean?"

"He's always had a thing for you."

"Oh now you're just being absurd." He turned back to pull mugs out of the cupboard.

"The scent all over both of you begs to differ. I don't like _my_ daughter and _my_ mate smelling like someone else."

John whirled around, furious. "I am _not_ your mate! You've always been very clear about how you feel about that so don't you dare try and use that now!"

"We might not be bonded but you are _mine_ , Lydia is _mine!_ "

John could feel his fury rushing through him. "You complete and utter prick. How dare you?! How fucking dare you try to tell me who I can spend time with? Not that long ago you didn't even want us, you walked out on both of us not three hours after she was born-"

"And don't you just love reminding me of my biggest mistake at every opportunity?" Sherlock interrupted fiercely.

John continue, ignoring Sherlock. "-and now you're talking like we're something you own?! We're people Sherlock not possessions, and maybe if I felt like you understood the difference even a little bit, that you wanted us both because you want us not because you feel some fucking alpha sense of entitlement to us then maybe I'd have come home already."

Sherlock reeled back looking like he'd been slapped. "Do you honestly believe that-"

John was pulling his coat and the baby sling back on. "I can't talk to you at the moment."

Sherlock followed him. "You cannot keep walking out John!"

"That's exactly what I can do!" With that he picked up Lydia, happily oblivious to her arguing parents.

"John-"

"Don't come round for a few days," John said over his shoulder as he jogged down the stairs.

Sherlock was brought to a standstill by John's words."You can't ban me from seeing my child! I can't believe that you would be so childish to use her against me-"

"Fine, I'll bring her round. Don't come to Mycroft's." And with that John slammed the front door.

Sherlock stood frozen on the stairs. He played back the argument in his head. Maybe he shouldn't have claimed John and Lydia like that. Or called John his mate like that. But still, he thought John's reaction might have been a little excessive, though Sherlock was hardly a good example of reasonable reactions. There was more than just what Sherlock had said behind John's words.

Besides, Sherlock knew he was right, that fucking alpha work friend of John's had been giving out courting pheromones left right and centre, Lydia and John were covered in them.

Sherlock pulled his coat off the banister, dragging it on as he flung the door open. He needed to go and have a conversation with someone who didn't seem to be able to spot when someone was taken, bonded or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoot, forgot to add this in before. The lovely And-the-woman-will-cry on tumblr made a cover for my story! You can find it here:http://wwwhatstories.tumblr.com/post/81371717293/and-the-woman-will-cry-a-cover-i-made-for-the
> 
> So nice that my story inspired someone else and thank you atwwc!


	14. Just keep telling me facts and keep making me smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patience is a virtue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Look at that, less than three weeks since the last one and not just an update but a bumper one! Hopefully that slightly makes up for the previous long waits in this story. This one was going to be two chapters but I couldn't figure out where was the best place to end chapter one and it seemed to flow nicely as one, so super long chapter it is!
> 
> Not too much to say before this one, just the usual, hope you enjoy it! Also, thanks so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos, it means so much to me and makes my day every time!
> 
> Happy weekend everyone! :-)
> 
>  
> 
> \-----

**Week 18**

It was annoyingly easy to track down John's colleague. So easy that it only served to make Sherlock more frustrated, a feeling he took out on the doorbell of the entirely dull looking front door of the extremely bland looking flat that the man lived in.

"Alright, alright, I heard you the first time," said a voice from inside as the door was pulled open. As soon as it was open enough Sherlock barged in storming through to the kitchen.

"What the hell-? Sherlock?!" The confusion was apparent in the other alpha's voice as he slammed the front door and followed Sherlock through the small flat. "What are you doing just barging into my flat?!" He stood in the doorway watching as Sherlock looked around before his gaze finally settled on Chris.

Chris shrugged his hands out in front of him. "Can I help you with something or did you just storm in here for no reason?"

“You had lunch with John today,” Sherlock finally said.

“Yeah, and?”

Sherlock sighed. Clearly the man was an imbecile. “And I thought that perhaps you needed reminding that John isn't available.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “As if I don’t know that.”

“Well the scent all over John and _my_ daughter this afternoon suggested otherwise.”

Chris shook his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes again. “Oh for god’s sake. Are you serious?”

Sherlock frowned at him. “Do I seem like someone who isn't serious?”

With another sigh Chris dropped down onto the arm of the sofa he'd been stood in front of. “No, you seem like someone who’s deranged.”

Sherlock shot a sceptical look at him.

“I know you’re king of the observations, but let me try this one. You've stormed in here - I’m not even going to ask how you know where I live - to tell me that my _friend_ isn't single and in an effort to show how alpha you are.” He raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. “Close?”

Sherlock shot a glare at him. “You left scent markers all over them.”

“Yes, and I have so much control over that,” Chris responded, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Alphas only leave scents on omega’s they’re attracted to,” Sherlock pointed out, his tone still icy with barely contained fury.

The other alpha dragged a hand over his hair frustrated. “Like I said, not exactly something I have a lot of control over!”

"John is mine," Sherlock snarled, leaning in close to the other man.

"Then act like it you fucking idiot!" Chris said, standing up, not letting himself be intimidated by Sherlock's aggression. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" He shook his head. "John's great; nice, funny, clever, kind, interesting-" he rolled his eyes at the aggravated noise Sherlock made. "Why would I _not_ be interested in him? And yet for as long as I've known him he's never even noticed anyone else cos he's been too bloody in love with you! Honestly, if he showed even a flicker of interest in me I'd bond with him in a heartbeat to stop any other alpha standing a chance, but not so for the great Sherlock Holmes, oh no-"

"You don't have a clue what you're talking about," Sherlock interrupted sharply.

Chris barked out a dry laugh. "I know you're luckier than you have any right to be that John's even still talking to you any more never mind anything else after the way you acted when Lydia was born-"

"Don't you dare bring my child into this," Sherlock rumbled, fury flicking up his spine.

Chris threw his hands up in the air. "For someone so clever you're being really fucking stupid. Let me spell it out for you. I'm not trying to _steal John away from you_ or make a move on him, but I think you're doing a pretty good job of pushing him away yourself, and don't think for a second that when you finally do whatever it is you're going to do that'll make him walk away from you for good that I won't be waiting to step in. Now if you'd kindly get the fuck of my flat I'd appreciate it."

Sherlock took a deep breath. He wanted to rip into Chris, to tell him all the ways that he was lacking and exactly why John would never be satisfied with someone so dull and ordinary, but in a rare moment of considering the consequences of his words, he thought that verbally destroying the man in front of him might only serve to make John even more angry with him. "Stay away from John," Sherlock warned before stalking out of the flat and slamming the door hard behind him.

Once he was stalking his way back towards Baker Street, Sherlock pulled his phone out, Chris's words echoing uncomfortably in his head.

_...when you finally do whatever it is you're going to do that'll make him walk away from you for good..._

He started typing a text to John when he was interrupted by a call, Lestrade's name flashing on screen.

"What?" He snapped.

_"Hello to you too."_

Sherlock sighed.

_"I've got a case for you, are you free?"_

Sherlock considered it for a moment. He wanted to talk to John but thought it unlikely that the stubborn omega would respond to him so close to their argument. "Depends, is it interesting?"

_"A seven."_ Sherlock could practically hear Greg’s eye roll.

"Fine, text me the details." With that he abandoned his text to John and turned back on himself as the details came through.

 

\-------------

 

Two days later and the case was solved and Sherlock found himself just a few miles from Mycroft's house.

_Can I come and see you? - SH_ He sent to John.

Just as he was starting to wonder what could possibly be taking John so long to respond a text came through.

**I'm out at the moment but I'll drop Lydia off with you in half an hour if you'll be in?**

_I'll be back by then. I'll pick up some lunch - SH_

He hailed a passing cab checking his phone as he sat.

**Don't bother for me, I've got things I need to do.**

Sherlock frowned. _You could stay - SH_

******Don't. I still need some time not around you.** ** **

As Sherlock dropped his phone back in his pocket Chris's words flashed through his head again.

_'...when you finally do whatever it is you're going to do that'll make him walk away from you for good...'_

The man might have been an imbecile but for some reason Sherlock couldn't delete what he'd said. The fact that John didn't even want to be around him made him wonder if he'd already started making John move away from him. The question was if it was too far away and if he'd already shoved John into someone else's path.

As Sherlock arrived back at Baker Street Mrs Hudson popped her head out into the hallway.

“Oh hello Sherlock, I've got Lydia in here with me, John just dropped her off, said he had to go and see Harry and that he’d be back in a few hours. I said I didn't think you’d be long but he seemed in a hurry.

Sherlock frowned. John had purposefully avoided him. He tried to ignore the insecure whisper in his head that maybe this was it, this was the thing that had pushed John too far to come back from.

“Sherlock, are you ok?”

“Yes, yes, fine, sorry. I’ll take Lydia up with me.”

****

****\-----------** **

****

The next week followed much the same pattern. John would either drop Lydia off with Mrs Hudson, or would hand her over to Sherlock on the doorstep, always having an excuse to not go in to 221. When he came to pick her up it was rushed and awkward, John insisting on waiting downstairs despite all of Sherlock’s efforts to get him to come in.

Sherlock found himself devoid of cases too, spending his days waiting for John to bring Lydia over and then spending his evenings sulking about neither John nor Lydia being there.

He missed them both, and there was nothing he could think of to do to fix things. Every time he asked John to come in, to stay a while, to spend time with him, John’s response was the same. He needed time and for Sherlock to be patient.

Nothing sounded harder to Sherlock.

 

****\-------** **

****

******Week 19** ** **

****

John didn't think he'd felt so ill since the first few weeks of morning sickness. He rolled onto his side, trying to ease the nauseous rolling in his stomach but it didn't seem to help. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes trying to will himself to not be sick again.

When the wave of nausea eased slightly he managed to sit up enough to sip at his glass of water. He could barely face it but knew that he had to try not to get too dehydrated if he was going to be able to keep feeding Lydia. He'd managed her early feed but wasn't sure the later morning one was going to go as well, not while he was struggling not to vomit every 20 minutes.

As he took another gulp of water he felt the now familiar sickness sliding over him and dove into the en suite.

He pressed his hot forehead against the cool plinth of the sink and sighed. He couldn't look after Lydia while he was like this. When he made it back into the bedroom, pulling the duvet up to his chin, he tapped at his phone, closing his eyes as he concentrated on not being ill again.

_"John?"_

"Um, yeah, yes, hi." He pressed his free hand to his head wondering why he was acting like such an idiot. It was just Sherlock. Even if John had barely spoken to him for the better part of a week he shouldn't feel so awkward now.

_"What's wrong?_

"Nothing really, I just wondered if you were busy today?"

Before Sherlock could respond John heard what he was sure was Lestrade's voice calling Sherlock and hurrying him along.

"Oh, shit sorry, are you on a case? Ignore me-"

_"It's dull. What were you calling for?"_

"Nothing, nothing, just um, I might not be able to bring Lydia over today," he swallowed hard around another wave in his stomach. "I'll text you or something, bye." With that he hung up and dashed back into the bathroom his phone quickly forgotten.

He managed Lydia's next feed, and to change her, but had to stop midway through both to vomit, leaving Lydia screaming in her cot at the interruptions. He'd slept a little and managed to drink some water that he seemed to be keeping down, but food had caused a terrible reaction that he wasn't keen to repeat.

He woke again to the familiar wake-up call of his daughter's cries through the baby monitor but had had to detour on his way to her room to vomit in the hallway bathroom. Hearing her cry when he couldn't even stand up to go and comfort her was making his heart break.

He pressed the side of his face against his arm, praying that was the end and not just a brief pause when he felt a cool hand against his neck, jumping at the contact. He turned enough to see Sherlock's familiar form crouched behind him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were ill?" The detective asked softly.

John shook his head but couldn't answer as he turned back to vomit again. He sighed as he felt a cold flannel press against his neck.

"I'll be back in a minute," Sherlock said as he stood, leaving John pressed against the toilet.

He sighed as he heard Lydia quiet down, closing his eyes as he heard Sherlock talk softly to her. He couldn't tell what he was saying but the tone made John feel better.

John had dragged himself back into bed when the vomiting had stopped. Eventually Sherlock returned, Lydia in his arms her crying down to a whimper.

"I think she needs feeding, are you well enough to?"

John shook his head. "Not sure, but there's some bottles in the fridge," he took a few deep breaths. "She might not like it, she never does when she knows I'm around," he mumbled, curling up into a ball. "And she'd been crying for a bit before you got here so she'll be a bit worked up." His eyes were shut, his tired brain pulling him closer to sleep now that someone else could think about Lydia. He sighed as a cool hand stroked over his hair before resting on his forehead.

"Go to sleep."

"Thanks."

 

John woke up, disoriented. He waited for nausea to overtake him, and was relieved when none came and his stomach felt settled. He rolled onto his back his side pressing against a firm warmth.

"Feeling better?"

He blinked up at Sherlock. "You're still here."

"Evidently."

"Why?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You were sleeping. It seemed irresponsible to leave until I knew you were better."

"What time is it?"

"Six," he said, pressing his hand against John's forehead again. "You're not as hot as you were before."

"I feel a lot better. I don't think I've had had that much sleep in a row for months so that must have helped," John smiled weakly at him, Sherlock's hand moving to his hair.

"Mmm."

"Lydia-"

"She's fine, slept, ate, I read her a book."

"What book did you read?" John asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Well, it wasn't so much a book, more case notes," he said, shaking the file that had been on his lap.

John rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure that's recommended reading for an almost five month old."

"I read it in a cheery tone," the detective countered.

"’Goldilocks and the three dismembered bodies’ was it?" John asked with a smirk.

Sherlock smirked back at him before looking back down at the notes, his hand still in John's hair. "Something like that."

"Why did you come? You were on a case." John eventually asked.

"You've hardly asked me for anything since she was born and barely spoken to me for a week. I knew something must be wrong for you to call me. Why didn't you tell me you were ill?"

John shrugged slightly. "You were busy." He didn't want to add that he never thought that Sherlock would choose him over a case.

"Idiot."

"Was she ok?"

Sherlock nodded. "Mmm, she didn't like the bottle, whined a lot, she drank it eventually though."

John smiled softly. "Poor baby. I should go and see her."

"I'll fetch her, she's probably had enough napping now anyway," Sherlock said with a hand on John's shoulder.

John pushed himself out of bed and into the bathroom, this trip mercifully vomit free. When he returned Sherlock was sat on the bed, Lydia in his lap pushing case notes around. John watched them for a moment before the need to hold his baby propelled him onto the bed, settling next to Sherlock who handed her carefully over to him. As John held her close to him he smiled at Sherlock. "Thank you, for today, typical of me to get ill the week Mycroft's housekeeper's off."

"Even when she's not you should call me first."

"It's ok Sherlock-"

"John, if you or Lydia need something, _anything_ , you should ask me, not _Mycroft_ or his housekeeper."

John nodded smiling down at Lydia who was propped against his legs, her hands in his. "Missed you today sweetheart," he said, kissing her hands. After a moment he turned to Sherlock. "I was worried you wouldn't come because I think I've been a bit of a dick to you this week."

Sherlock shrugged. "No more than I deserve probably."

John turned back to Lydia smiling as she gurgled to herself. "I think I might have overreacted a bit."

Sherlock watched him carefully for a moment. "I shouldn't have said what I said in the way that I did."

John didn't respond, instead he smiled and pulled faces at Lydia, making her laugh. Sherlock watched their easy interaction, feeling briefly like he was intruding in their world, the feeling of wanting to belong to both of them leaving him aching.

The realisation hit him with the same feeling he got when all the pieces of a case slotted together and the solution became clear. As much as he wanted to lay claim to them both and make them _his_ properly, he wanted to be _theirs_ just as much.

"Do you have anywhere you need to be this week?" He asked, watching John carefully.

"Um, nothing specific planned, why?" He was still busying himself making Lydia grin.

"Would you go somewhere with me for a few days, you and Lydia?" He felt apprehensive in a way that was unfamiliar to him. He never normally had a problem asking for what he wanted.

John turned to him, frowning. "Go somewhere? Like for a case?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No, I just...I'd like to take you somewhere."

"Sherlock, I'm not sure-"

"Please," he interrupted. "I know I don't deserve it but just give me a chance on one more thing."

John watched him for a long moment his eyes flicking over Sherlock's sincere face. "Ok," he nodded softly. "Ok, when?"

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Day after tomorrow?"

John nodded again. “Where?”

Sherlock smiled. “A surprise. No where odd though,” he added at John’s sceptical look. His phone rang before John could ask any more questions. Sherlock looked at it but didn't answer it. “It’s Lestrade. Would you like me to stay longer?”

John smiled and shook his head, pulling Lydia closer to him. “No, no, I feel a lot better now, I’ll be fine.” He leaned Lydia back slightly smiling at her. “I think we might just about make it down to the sofa.”

Sherlock hesitated making John smile.

“Honestly, we’ll be fine. I’m just going to make tea and lie on the sofa. I can manage that and I think Lydia’s keen too.” He turned a smiley Lydia to face Sherlock. “See, she thinks it’s a great plan.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes before picking up his phone. “What? – Yes, fine, I’ll meet you there.” With that he hung up and stood up from the bed, turning back to look at John and Lydia. “Are you sure you’ll be ok?”

John smiled and rolled his eyes. “We’ll be fine.”

Sherlock nodded and turned to leave.

“Sherlock?" John said, stopping the man in his tracks. "Thank you, for coming today.”

He shook his head. “No problem. I’ll pick you up at 10 the day after tomorrow.” He pressed a kiss to Lydia’s forehead, fighting his urge to do the same to John, before leaving the room, feeling uncomfortable with leaving for a case for the first time in his life.

 

....

 

"You're doing it wrong," John said, crossing his arms as he peered over the top of the open car door.

A flurry of clunking from inside the car was his only response.

"Do you want a hand?" John offered.

"No!" Sherlock's reply was muffled by more bumping.

John tilted his head, admiring the view of Sherlock's arse and long legs, the only bit of him visible through the open door. "You sure?"

"I'm a bloody genius, I can fit a sodding car seat!"

John bit back a smirk. "Ok then." He turned and crouched in front of the car seat, Lydia wriggling inside it, chewing one of her hands. "Don't worry sweetheart, Daddy's a genius, he'll have this sorted in no time, I mean it's only taken him 10 minutes so far, that's definitely shorter than average."

Sherlock backed out of the car scowling at John. "Your sarcasm is not appreciated. I think it's broken."

John bit his lips between his teeth to hold in his smile. "Shall I have a look?"

"Fine." Sherlock stepped to one side.

John leaned into the car, turning the seat base around before threading the seatbelt through the relevant sections. "I think it might have magically fixed itself," he said backing out of the car trying not to grin.

Sherlock pushed passed him poking at the base. "Hmph."

John grinned as he moved to click the car seat onto the base, kissing Lydia gently. "Thank goodness your genius father sorted it out." He made sure her dragonfly was clipped to the seat before he shut the door and settled himself in the passenger seat.

"Ready?" John asked, unable to keep his smug grin off his face.

Sherlock frowned as he pulled out into the flow of traffic. "It's an illogical design."

John grinned, turning back to look out at the road. "Yep, that must be it." He pulled the visor down to watch Lydia in the mirror. "Where's the car from then?"

"Someone owed me a favour."

"Who doesn't?" John said with smile and a roll of his eyes.

They passed a few miles in comfortable silence.

"So are you going to tell me where we're going then?" John asked turning slightly toward Sherlock, his head pressed back against the headrest.

"Sussex," Sherlock said, not looking away from the road.

"Sussex? What's in Sussex?" John tried to think if he'd ever heard Sherlock mention Sussex before but he struggled to think of any time Sherlock had mentioned anywhere outside the M25.

"You'll see."

John rolled his eyes but knew he'd get nothing more from him about it. "How long will it take to get there?"

"About another hour and a half."

"Should make it there before she needs a feed," John said looking at Lydia's reflection in the visor.

"She's been asleep for 10 minutes," Sherlock murmured looking back at her too.

John smiled at Sherlock's profile. "So Lestrade said you had a good case the other week, complicated, managed to stop a kidnapping before it happened?"

"It was obvious." But with that Sherlock launched into a long explanation of what happened, what he'd done, how idiotic the force had been about everything and by the time he'd explained it all John was looking at him in a way that reminded Sherlock of the way John used to look at him on cases before, before everything had changed.

"Brilliant," John murmured, smiling at Sherlock.

The soft look on John's face made Sherlock inexplicably hopeful that everything between them wasn't permanently damaged.

"We're nearly there," Sherlock said, looking back at their baby. "Think you were right about her sleeping all the way."

John nodded smiling at her reflection.

As they turned down increasingly narrow roads John took in the picturesque countryside around them. "It's lovely, been so long since I've properly been out of London...it's nice."

Sherlock nodded at him and smiled, guiding the car up a narrow lane before pulling onto a gravel driveway, stopping in front of a small thatched cottage.

John peered up at it before turning to Sherlock. "This is...not what I was expecting. It's beautiful." He smiled at Sherlock. "This from someone else who owes you a favour?"

Sherlock shook his head, smiling as he got out of the car, managing to unclip the car seat first time, Lydia still asleep. He pulled a key out as he walked around the car, stopping next to John in front of the cottage.

"Sherlock, what is this place?"

"At the moment it's mine and Mycroft's, it used to be our mother's." With that he opened the door, heading through to the main living room leaving John standing open mouthed on the driveway.

John followed a few steps behind Sherlock, trying to take in all the details of the cottage. It was homely, quaint, comforting, not really somewhere he could imagine a Holmes given what he knew of them. He stroked a hand along the top of a polished table moving through the small hallway to the living room where Sherlock was stood reading a note on the coffee table, Lydia's seat next to his feet. The room was cosy and comforting, pale yellow walls with the occasional painting here and there. The sofas looked soft and inviting, gathered round a big open fireplace.

Sherlock turned around. "The housekeeper's been in so there should be food and tea and things." He felt apprehensive, he'd only ever been to the cottage with Mummy and Mycroft and it felt strange to be showing it to someone else.

John turned around from where he'd been gazing around the living room, admiring the view out to what looked like beautiful gardens.

"Sherlock, this place is like something off a Christmas card," John didn't quite know what to say.

"Is that good?" Sherlock frowned. It sounded ridiculous, but lots of silly sayings existed that were completely illogical.

John smiled moving to fill the kettle up and switch it on. "It's beautiful." He leaned back against the counter watching Sherlock in the living area. "So you and Mycroft own this place? You've never mentioned it..."

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "Not exactly, it's complicated, but it's mine and his to use for now."

John rummaged around for cups and teabags, he wanted to ask more about this strange and lovely place that had never been talked about before but Sherlock seemed reluctant to open up so John was happy to drop it, for a while. "Let's have a cuppa then we can get the bags in."

...

John gazed around each room as Sherlock showed him around the cottage taking in the tasteful decoration and noting the lack of personal mementos in all the rooms.

The cottage was cosy though, despite it's lack of personality; downstairs was mostly one space, a large kitchen with a table in it, opening out into the cosy living space, a small book filled study the only other room downstairs. Upstairs a small bathroom separated two bedrooms, one with two single beds in, decorated in shades of blue and cream.

"This was mine and Mycroft's bedroom when we both stayed here with Mummy."

John grinned to himself, looking around the room and taking it in again, imagining Mycroft and Sherlock forced to share this space. "Did you come here very often?" He leaned on the window ledge, looking out onto the garden. "Did you climb out of this window often?"

Sherlock smirked back. "Not as frequently as you'd think, there's depressingly little to do in the countryside."

He lead John through to the other bedroom, it felt spacious even with a big bed in it.

"This was Mummy's room."

This room was done in neutral shades and the only one with anything personal in. John found himself drawn to a dresser covered in photo frames. A woman he'd never seen before but who bore a striking resemblance to Sherlock and Mycroft was in a lot of them, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, but mostly with two young boys. John picked up one which showed the woman and a baby in what he now recognised as the room downstairs.

"Is this you?" John asked turning around with the frame in his hand.

Sherlock moved close, standing so his front was pressed lightly against John's side, looking down at the picture. "Mmm, Mycroft was a much chubbier baby."

John rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep his grin in. "Lydia looks so much like you."

"Poor child."

John huffed softly, still mesmerized by the photo. "Shut up, you're beautiful."

The compliment was one he'd heard before and always ignored, but the words coming from John's mouth made Sherlock blush. "I was thinking, if you wanted to, I could have Lydia in the other room with me, and you could sleep in here, if you leave a bottle in the fridge I can feed her in the night, you can get some sleep-"

John cut off Sherlock's rambling by wrapping his arms around the taller man, photo frame still firmly in one hand. "Thank you, you've no idea how good a whole night's sleep sounds."

Before Sherlock could respond there was a feeble cry from downstairs. John pulled away blushing faintly as he put the photo frame back.

"Poor baby, she'll be so confused about where she is."

Sherlock stayed in the room listening as John made his way downstairs, smiling to himself as he heard John talking easily and gently to their baby. He looked at the photo John had been looking at, he must have only been a few months old in it, his mother looked happy in a way she hadn't often been. She'd been happy here, at least for a while. Maybe the place could have the same effect on him too.

\------

The next day they ordered dinner from somewhere that Sherlock had somehow bribed into delivering to the cottage. Sherlock was sorting Lydia out for bed when the delivery arrived.

"Sherlock, food's here, where's the cash?" John called up the stairs.

"In my wallet."

John rolled his eyes. "And that's where?"

"On the fireplace."

"Sorry," John said to the delivery guy as he grabbed Sherlock's wallet, flipping through the notes section. "So that was-" he stopped as something in with the notes made him stop dead.

"Um...£27." The guy's tone suggested it wasn't the first time he'd said it.

"Sorry, here," John handed £30 over and taking the bag of food.

"Everything ok?" Sherlock asked coming down the stairs, stopping on the bottom one as John stayed where he was.

"What's this?" John asked pulling a dog-eared ultrasound scan out of Sherlock's wallet.

"Oh, that's..." he sighed. "It's from when we went to the hospital when Lydia wasn't moving." He moved to take it from John, looking at it fondly. "You don't mind do you?"

"No, I just...why did you keep it?" At the time John thought Sherlock had little interest in the baby growing inside him.

"I'd never seen her before, we didn't even know she was a she then..." Sherlock tucked the scan back into the wallet he eased from John's hands. "It was strange, after so long of just the abstract concept of a baby inside you, to see her, even a faint flickery version."

John looked at Sherlock, open mouthed. "I had no idea."

Sherlock shook his head. "Come on, the food will be getting cold." And without another word he took the bag of food from John, leaving the omega standing gaping after him.

 

\----

 

The days spent at the cottage were oddly relaxing. John revelled in the sleeping arrangements that allowed him a full night's sleep for the first time in almost half a year. Not that he didn't fret about Lydia anyway, but he was happy to let Sherlock deal with things.

On their third night there John woke up when Lydia started crying, his body wanting to react but he stayed where he was listening as Sherlock took her downstairs to heat the bottle up, he smiled as he heard them come back upstairs, Sherlock talking softly to her. He must have dozed off slightly because the sound of Sherlock crossing the hall to the bathroom woke him back up.

John couldn't stop himself this time, he got out of bed and left his room just as Sherlock left the bathroom.

"John, are you ok? Did I wake you up?" Sherlock asked quietly, conscious of the open door to the bedroom Lydia was in.

John shook his head. "I'm fine, I just..." he bit his lip, looking up at Sherlock in the dim light of the cottage hallway.

"Just what?" Sherlock murmured seeming closer than just seconds before.

"Just..." John sighed and pushed himself closer to Sherlock, wrapping one arm around him, the other hand going to Sherlock's cheek, pulling the alpha closer as John pressed his lips against Sherlock's. He pulled back for a second. "Just this."

Sherlock kissed him back that time, holding John close to him.

"Come to bed with me," John said softly, pressing kisses along Sherlock's jaw, feeling the alpha nod. He threaded his fingers through Sherlock's, pulling him into the bedroom.

"Lydia-" Sherlock began.

"She'll be fine and we'll be quiet," John whispered, pulling Sherlock down to the bed with him.

.......

Later that day after a thrown together lunch of whatever they'd found in the fridge, Sherlock and John were sprawled out in the garden, Lydia sat on a blanket between them supported by one of Sherlock's hands.

"I think she'll have the hang of that soon," John commented, making Lydia laugh by playing with her bare feet.

Sherlock smiled, his eyes still on Lydia. "Mmm, she feels more sturdy every day."

John nodded. "Won't be long til she's moving around, then we'll really be in trouble, won't be able to leave anything lying around, will we sweetheart?" He said, squeezing Lydia's foot again.

She waved her arms enthusiastically, upsetting her balance and sending her backwards into Sherlock's waiting hands. He pulled her over him as he rolled onto his back, holding her up as she kicked her legs babbling and cooing happily to herself.

"That's when the fun will really begin, won't it Lydia? Then Papa will be running around after both of us."

John kicked at him weakly, flinging an arm over his eyes as he too rolled onto his back. "Don't even joke about it, who knows how much of your Houdini like tendencies she'll have inherited?"

Sherlock smiled at the thought, bringing Lydia down to lie on his chest, smiling as she tucked her face against his neck in the way she'd done since the first time he'd held her. "Her scent's changing too, is that normal?"

John yawned, his arm still over his face. "Yeah, it won't settle til she's a few years old, subtly but enough for you and I to notice."

Sherlock wrapped his arm around his daughter as she yawned against his neck, stroking her hair softly as she gripped Sherlock's shirt in one hand. "Do you think about what she'll present as?"

John turned his head to them, watching the pair of them. "Sometimes. Do you?"

"Occasionally, usually when I think about the statistics of it all. Mycroft and I are alphas, our parents were an alpha omega couple, Harry's a beta, your parents were betas weren't they?"

John nodded. "Yep, but it's all chance isn't it? Do you think we should have her tested? Someone from work had his baby tested at birth...I guess I said no if they asked me at the hospital, I don't remember but it's all a bit hazy."

Sherlock thought for a few minutes. "I want to know, but it seems irrelevant at the moment, she's just a baby, we wouldn't treat her any differently whichever gender she was. That said I don't want her to just present out of the blue, it's a hideous way to find out."

John winced at the reminder of presenting without warning. "Yeah. Well, times have changed, we have to have her tested by the end of primary school anyway, so even if we don't do it before we'll find out then."

"We'll see then, I think the time will present itself, but not yet." He stroked her back softly. "Has she fallen asleep?"

John nodded, a soft smile on his face. "Yeah, the change of scenery has obviously worn her out. Or you're just especially comfortable."

Sherlock moved his hand slightly, feeling her little heart beating rapidly. "This is so far from what I imagined my life would be."

"Yeah?" John turned onto his side propping his head on one hand, watching them.

"Mmm, she's so small, she doesn't really _do_ anything, and yet also manages to disrupt _everything_ , she's entirely illogical and I can't predict anything that she'll do, I feel entirely out of my depth in a way that I hate and she's changed things between us forever. And despite all that, most illogically of all, I find that I can't bear the thought of her not being here, and would kill anyone that hurt her without a second thought." Even the thought of it made his hand tighten slightly on her, causing her to shift in her sleep. "I would never have chosen to have a child, but now...there's no life without her, without both of you, that appeals at all." He sighed as he came to a stop, his words leaving him open and vulnerable.

John found himself unable to say anything, his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton wool. He watched as Sherlock closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of their child.

Such a tiny thing, but the product of them, of a flukey set of circumstances that derailed the path they were on and set them on a new and unexpected one. Still unable to find words for what he was feeling, he moved closer to the pair of them, pulling Sherlock's arm up to move under it, his head resting on Sherlock's shoulder, pressing his face against the warm skin of his neck, his hand stroking over Sherlock's to rest next to it on Lydia's back.

"I love you, John Watson, and I love our child, more than I know how to say. I can't forgive myself for the mistakes I've made with you both but I can try, in my own ridiculous ways, to rectify them if you'll let me."

John swallowed hard, pressing his face harder against Sherlock, who wrapped his arm tighter around him.

"Bond with me," Sherlock whispered softly. "Not right away, but when the time's right, bond with me."

John looked up at him, eyes shiny and bright. "Why?"

"Because I want to be yours, I want us to be each other's and I want everyone to know that."

John looked at him, his gaze making Sherlock feel exposed and bare.

John opened his mouth to speak but closed it after a second. Sherlock saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. He wanted to ask John what he was thinking about, wanted to _make_ him answer his question, but he forced himself stay silent, partly to give John time to get his thoughts in order and partly because he was terrified by what John's answer might be. He was terrified that now that he'd finally realised what he wanted, now that he had his wonderful child asleep on his chest, and the most interesting and brilliant person he'd ever met in his arms, that it'd all be taken away from him.

"Yes," John whispered, his mouth close to Sherlock's ear. "Always yes."

Sherlock turned to look at him, startled out of his thoughts by the simple words. "Yes?"

"Yes," John grinned, closing the gap between them, kissing Sherlock gently. "Yes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Epilogue to come!


	15. Every quiver of your beating heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No amount of thought can ever reveal what comes unexpectedly."
> 
> Arthur Erickson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Firstly - apologies for the wait, bit busy with work and RL so I've not had as much writing time as I'd have liked. Also, I've found it really hard to finish this because I'm so sad to see the end of this story :-( which leads me neatly to point two...
> 
> Secondly - I started writing this little story at a point when I was having a bit of an awful time in real life. Writing this and hearing from so many readers honestly made some terrible days into brilliant ones. You've been fabulous cheerleaders and I can’t thank you enough!
> 
> Finally - When I started writing it I thought this story was going to be three or four chapters and a few thousand words, now here we are finishing it up on chapter 15, about 80,000 words and the better part of a year later. I'm grateful to all of you who have taken the time to read this funny little story set in a strange AU. To those of you who've left kudos and comments, you're amazing, you make my day every time you take the time to leave me some feedback or click that kudos button. Thanks to those of you who've stuck with this from early on and thanks for the patience those of you who've waited for me to complete it.
> 
> For the last time, hope you enjoy it, I own nothing and no one, thanks for reading.
> 
> W :-) 
> 
> \- - - - -

**52 weeks**

“Where’s the birthday girl then?” Mrs Hudson smiled as she set the final plate out on the kitchen table.

John stared slightly astounded at the amount of food that Mrs Hudson had prepared. “Oh, er, she’s napping still. Mrs Hudson, you know there’s only going to be a few of us don’t you? There’s enough food here for a small army.”

“Well, people can take some home can’t they?” She said, fluffing cushions and opening the curtains wider. “Oh! I’ve got a present for her, I’ll put it on the desk, make a little present area, the others can put theirs with it.” With that she went to get the gift bag she’d left in the hallway.

John grinned as he sat in his chair, imagining Mycroft taking a doggie bag of sausage rolls home with him, he finally picked up the cup of tea he’d made when Mrs Hudson had arrived. “You didn’t have to get her a present, everything you’ve done for today is more than enough.”

She sat down in Sherlock’s chair, picking up her cup. “Nonsense, John, it’s my pleasure. Anyway, I don’t get chance to bake like this very often. Oh, the cake’s downstairs still because I thought if she saw it she wouldn’t eat any lunch.”

John smiled. “Mmm, yeah, probably true.”

“Where’s Sherlock?” Mrs Hudson asked over the edge of her cup.

“Said he had to go out for a bit but he’d be back later.”

“Oh, he’s not going to miss the party is he?”

John shook his head. “No, no, he’ll be here.”

Mrs Hudson frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” John rolled his eyes. In the months since he’d moved back into Baker Street everyone seemed to be cautiously holding their collective breath to waiting for Sherlock to get bored of family life and let John down. John supposed it was their way of looking out for him, but he was always slightly offended on Sherlock’s behalf.

He supposed that they just didn’t see Sherlock as he did. They didn’t see Sherlock get up in the middle of the night when Lydia woke up. They didn’t get to see him talking to her about London - _It’s never too early to learn about where you live_ \- while making her toast, both of them still in their pyjamas. They didn't see the way Lydia lit up when she saw Sherlock for the first time after he'd been gone for days on a case, or how Sherlock lit up in such a similar way when she called him 'Da'.

Instead they saw Sherlock still on cases, still doing experiments, though thankfully most of those now took place in the basement of 221. They saw Sherlock complaining about the amount of pink things in their flat, and how ridiculous children's toys were, and how much time it took for them to leave the house.

"He'll be here, before she wakes up from her nap I imagine."

Mrs Hudson smiled, still not convinced.

\- * - 

"Hello you two," John smiled as he opened the door to Harry and Clara, receiving hugs from both of them. "You both look great." He was glad to be able to say it and mean it. The further they got from Harry's court case being over, and the longer Harry was sober, the more they both seemed to come back to life, as if they'd been in black and white before and now were almost back to full colour. "Come on up, Lydia's still sleeping but she won't be for long." 

"Drinks?" John asked when they were upstairs.

"I'll help you make tea," Harry said as Clara sat with Mrs Hudson on the sofa, chatting easily.

"Where's Sherlock then?" Harry asked, 'helping' by leaning against one of the counters, picking at some of the crisps Mrs Hudson had put out in a bowl. 

John rolled his eyes at the wall as he filled the kettle. "Out, he'll be back soon."

"Hmmm."

"So how are things, Harry? Tell me about the place you're doing your community service." 

\- * - 

"Well, well, fancy you two arriving at the same time, what a coincidence," John said in a voice that was almost pure sarcasm as he answered the door to Mycroft and Greg. 

Mycroft's face was it's usual staid expression while Greg looked more shifty, causing John to grin. 

"Come up, Lydia's still sleeping, she’ll be up soon though."

"Is Sherlock here?" Mycroft asked, looking around with the disdain he always showed for their flat. 

John sighed as he took the coat Mycroft held out to him. "He's out, said he had a few things to do, should be here soon. Drinks?" 

"I'll give you a hand," Greg smiled, causing Mycroft to grimace as he was left alone with the three women. 

Greg got the milk out as John got the mugs ready. 

"So go on then," John said. "Ask me if I'm sure that Sherlock's going to be here today." 

Greg let out a small chuckle handing the milk over to John. "I take it Harry asked you?" 

John nodded. "Harry, Mrs Hudson, I'm sure Mycroft was suggesting plenty," he said tapping the spoon on the cup. 

"Everyone just wants-"

"I know what everyone wants, but you're all worrying about nothing. Sherlock's a wonderful father, and a surprisingly good mate," John looked over his shoulder, "but don't tell him that part, his ego's already massive enough." 

"No problem, I'll keep that to myself. Everyone's just...concerned, y'know." 

"We're fine," John said, slightly exasperated. "Here," he said, handing Greg two mugs. "You'll know better than me how Mycroft likes his tea." 

He smirked as Greg's cheeks went slightly pink. They'd been playing this game for a long time, Greg and Mycroft refusing to be drawn on whatever was going on between them, and John and Sherlock trying to trip them up. Sherlock was better at it, naturally, and could usually get Greg to spill something, but Mycroft was harder to get, though Sherlock had once managed to get him to say 'we' and had gloated for days about it. 

"When will the birthday girl be up and about?" Greg asked as they went back to the living room, stopping in the doorway and grinning at the sight of Mycroft in what looked like a fairly painful conversation with Harry. 

"Soon," John grinned. "You should go and rescue him."

Greg shook his head as he sipped his tea. "Nah, it'll be good for him. Besides, he made me listen to opera on the way here, I deserve a little revenge."

\- * -

Molly appeared not long after, bright pink gift bag in hand. 

"Hiya Mols," John smiled giving her a hug. "You ok?"

"I'm great, thanks John. Here," she said holding out the gift bag. "It's nothing much but I thought she'd like it."

"Thank you, that's so kind of you. Who let you in by the way?"

"Oh, um, Sherlock was just getting home-"

Before she could finish Sherlock appeared in the doorway, a smiling Lydia in his arms, dressed in the party dress John had put out for her. ( _"Yes it's pink. Yes it's from Mycroft. Yes she has to wear it," John had told Sherlock when he’d complained the day before._ )

"Look Lydia, all these people have come to celebrate an arbitrary measure of the inevitable passing of time," Sherlock said as he crossed the room to kiss John's forehead, the newness of their bond drawing them together when they were in the same place. 

John poked him gently in the side. 

“Be nice,” John said, his smile turning to a grin as Lydia reached out for him. 

“Pa!” 

He grinned and kissed her hands, lifting her from Sherlock’s hold. “Hello princess, did you have a good sle-” 

“Mol!” Lydia shrieked as she spotted her, wriggling in John’s arms to face Molly. 

John rolled his eyes, his expression amused as he handed his daughter over to Molly. “Bored of me already sweetheart.” 

Molly smiled as she took hold of her. “Hello birthday girl.” 

Lydia smiled at her as she stroked at Molly’s long ponytail. “Mol.”

Since Lydia had spent Sherlock and John’s bonding heat with Molly the tiny girl was seriously enamoured with the kindly omega.

“Can you believe you’re a whole year old?” Molly asked with a wide eyed smile as she bounced Lydia on her hip.

“Food,” Lydia nodded, her face so solemn that Molly and John laughed.

“Guess that’s our cue to start on the party food.”

\- * -

An hour later Lydia had been fed, and was sat on the floor in the V of Sherlock’s legs as they unwrapped presents, John taking photos as Lydia enjoyed the wrapping paper more than the gifts.

"Oh good," Sherlock muttered dryly unwrapping the last gift. "Another illustrated book about an animal with dubious intelligence and a bizarre desire to wear clothes."

"He means thank you.” John kicked Sherlock's ankle weakly as he stood up. “Right, I'm going to get the cake."

"Cake!" Lydia parroted, causing Sherlock to scowl at Mycroft. 

"I blame you for that."

Downstairs just as John snapped a photo of a delicious looking, very pink cake, he heard someone clear their throat behind him. 

"Oh, Mycroft, everything alright? Lydia ok?"

Mycroft nodded. "She's fine, seems to be enjoying herself immensely. I just wanted to get you on your own for a moment."

"Oh?" John frowned.

"Yes, I thought you might like to see this," he said, holding a photograph out for John to take. 

John's brow creased as he looked at the picture. It showed a male couple, alpha and omega he'd assume, holding a chubby cheeked baby each, all four of them grinning at the camera. "Sorry, should I know them?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No. They're the couple that were lined up to adopt Lydia."

John's stomach dropped as he looked at the photo again, the reminder of the path he'd almost taken making him feel nauseous. He stared at it for a while longer before looking up at Mycroft. "They look...they look very happy."

Mycroft nodded at him. "They do don't they." He slid the photo back into the inside pocket of his jacket before turning to go back upstairs.

John shook his head, taking a deep breath to clear his mind. He lit the solitary candle and carried the cake upstairs, the sight of his daughter’s eyes widening in amazement chased away the uneasy feeling he always had when reminded of how close to letting her go he’d been. 

As everyone joined in singing Happy Birthday, even Sherlock, Lydia’s gaze was fixed on the cake and candle. At the end as everyone clapped and cheered and wished her a happy birthday, John carefully blew the candle out and leaned in close enough to plant a big kiss on Lydia’s forehead. Just as he leaned back Lydia shrieked with glee and shoved both her tiny hands into the cake, almost sending it flying out of John’s hands, Sherlock jumping up to save it, pulling it out of Lydia’s reach just in time to avoid another attempted grab by the birthday girl.

“Cake!” She exclaimed, attempting to stuff both icing covered hands into her mouth at once.

\- * -

John smiled as he leant against the doorframe, watching as Sherlock leant against the edge of Lydia’s cot, watching their daughter sleep.

“Thought you’d got lost,” John said softly, moving to stand next to Sherlock, one hand resting on the small of the alpha’s back.

Sherlock shook his head, still watching Lydia sleep. “Just thinking.” 

“When aren’t you?” John smiled, turning his gaze to their daughter. “I think she had a good time today.” 

“She was surrounded by food and people who wanted to make a fuss of her, of course she was happy, she’s like you.”

John smiled, pressing closer to Sherlock, his arm going around the man’s waist. “You ok?”

Sherlock nodded, turning in John’s hold. “Thank you.”

“What for?” 

“Everything. Us. Her. It’s all been your doing, you’ve made my life what it is, even when I didn’t realise it was what I wanted.” 

John smiled at him, cupping his cheek with one hand. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” He kissed his mate softly. “Besides, you started it all.”

\- - - - 

**3 years and 12 weeks earlier**

Sherlock looked up from his book as the downstairs door slammed. He turned back to the book but wasn't reading it as John slammed the living room door and dropped into his chair. 

"Problem?" He asked, not looking up, running through his deductions without seeing John. He'd left an hour before to go to his doctor's to refill his prescription for his heat suppressor. It should have been a routine appointment so something had clearly gone wrong for John to come back angry. He didn't seem upset so it must have been something inconvenient rather than bad health news. 

"You're going to have to leave the flat for a few days in approximately 4 days time," John said snapping the paper open and making a lot of noise about it. 

Something that happened at the doctor's meant that John was going to have a heat, that explained the bad mood then. John had been on heat suppressors for close to 20 years from what Sherlock had deduced and he clearly wasn’t choosing to have a heat. 

"Why should I leave?" Sherlock asked, voice sullen, flipping the page to make it seem like he was still reading and not trying not to think about John in heat.

"Because!" John replied, slamming the paper down. 

"That's not an answer." Sherlock’s annoyance wasn't faked this time. 

"Fine, how about because I've been on one kind of heat suppressor without pause long enough for the doctor to be worried about serious effects on my health? Or because I need to have a break between my current kind and the new kind which means I'll go into a withdrawal induced heat? Or because I'd rather go through the whole fucking awful experience in my own flat and not in some shitty hotel room? Any of those work for you?" He slammed the paper down on the little side table before storming into the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

"I could pay for a nicer hotel room for you if-" Sherlock's words died in his mouth at the furious look John shot him. "Fine, Fine, maybe there'll be a locked room murder and I won't need to come home anyway," he muttered darkly.

\----

**3 years and 11 weeks and 3 days earlier**

John had stocked up on easy foods; cereal bars, bread, things he could microwave in less than 3 minutes. He'd purchased a few 'heat aids' from a discreet shop in east London, and had taken a week off work. He was as ready as he could be. Privately he was apprehensive. From what he had read solo heats could be uncomfortable at the best of times and confusing and painful at worst. Add in almost 20 years without any sort of heat and he didn't know what to expect. 

He shook his head as he settled down on the sofa. It'd only last a few days, he'd barely leave his room never mind the flat, and it'd be done before he was even aware of it. He'd been to war for fucks sake, a few days of wanking was hardly a difficult situation.

He sipped at his tea as he flicked through the tv channels, finding it harder for anything to hold his interest. At the sound of the downstairs door closing and familiar steps on the stairs he sighed, he'd have to tell Sherlock that his heat was approaching. 

"John, where are my spare lock picks?"

Sherlock was already rummaging in drawers when John replied. 

"No idea. Sherlock, look, my heat's coming on pretty fast, I think you should go and stay...wherever it is you're going to go, tonight. I'll text you when it's over."

"What if I didn't go anywhere?" Sherlock asked, still riffling through a desk drawer. 

John sighed as he rubbed a hand over his face. "Sherlock, I've told you why I want to stay in the flat-"

"I know, I mean, what if I stayed here with you?" If John hadn't known Sherlock as well as he did he wouldn't have spotted the stiffness of the man's shoulders or the way his movements were fractionally less natural. 

"If you stayed here," John began slowly, "then I'd go into heat, and you, as an unbonded alpha around an unbonded omega in oestrus, would want to, er," he coughed awkwardly, "um, would want to mate. With me." He watched as Sherlock carried on his impression of a man looking for something. 

"Mmm," Sherlock said, his usual noise of vague agreement. 

John watched him for a few moments. "Sherlock...it'd be...intense, I haven't had a heat for almost 20 years, I've never had one as an adult, I don't know what it'll be like, what I'll be like."

Sherlock straightened but didn't turn to face John. "And it'll be marginally less disorienting if you're with someone...someone you know."

John watched him for a few moments while Sherlock moved round a few bits on his desk. "Why d'you want to?"

"You're my friend."

"None of my other friends have offered," John said watching Sherlock carefully while trying to ignore the omega part of his brain that was conjuring up a very compelling image of Sherlock with him during his heat, Sherlock touching him, tasting him, fucking him, knotting him- John cut that train of thought off when he realised how far it had gone.

"None of your other friends know that you'll be going into heat, and none of your other friends think about you when they masturbate." Sherlock let himself have that one small untruth, at least 3 of John's friends had thought about him while pleasuring themselves, but it made Sherlock’s point better if John stayed in the dark about that. 

Stunned, John didn't move or say anything for a long minute, opening and closing his mouth as words failed him. "You think about me when you..." John managed to stammer out, ending with a vague shake of his hand.

Sherlock merely turned and raised an eyebrow at him. 

John cleared his throat. The new image his brain supplied was even harder to ignore. "If you stay and we...y'know, you don’t think it would, I don't know, ruin our friendship or something?"

Sherlock shook his head. "We'll still be friends John, just friends who share heats when mutually beneficial and convenient."

Before John could properly think about the repercussions of what Sherlock was suggesting he found himself speaking. "Just friends?” 

Sherlock nodded.

John sat still for a few moments. “Ok, let's...let's give it a try, I mean, it's not like it's really a big thing is it?" 

Sherlock smiled his self satisfied 'I've-got-my-own-way' smile and turned back to his desk. "Exactly John. We'll just be two friends sharing a heat. Nothing is going to change."

 

_\- - - The End - - -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> So...would anyone be interested in a part two? And if I was maybe looking for a beta would anyone be interested in beta-ing for me? Contact details on my profile or let me know below! Thanks a million, W :-)


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